Getting Back Together Again
by Please Don't Hold Back
Summary: [AUModern Day, SLASH, Blush, Sprace, and others] High school forced the old gang to break off into smaller groups. Now in their Junior year a string of random events will force them back together again...but some of them aren't going down without a fight
1. Good Morning

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**I  
Good Morning**

"Sorry man, my parents came home today. They want to hang out and do…" the boy shrugged, "family shit, I guess…I don't really know."

"I thought your family hated each other," Jack answered, "Isn't that why no one's ever home?"

"Melissa almost died or some crazy shit like that. I don't know. I don't really care all that much," Skittery explained, shrugging again, "But I guess Ma's feeling grateful she didn't actually kick the bucket or something. Everyone keeps on cryin' and shit. It's annoying as all fuck."

"Yeah," Jack agreed reluctantly as he leaned against the side of the house and faced Skittery whom was daggling out of his bedroom window, half in and half out, "I guess near death experiences can do that to people. So what happened?"

"I don't know," Skittery replied, "She took drugs or something and OD'd on accident. That's all she told me anyway. She probably did it on purpose though, knowing her."

"Shit," Jack breathed, not really knowing what else to say.

"Try Bumlets' house," Skittery offered, getting back to the original topic, "His parents are usually too fucked up to care if you spend the night."

"Ah…yeah, okay," Jack agreed. He had seen Bumlet's glaring at him in the hall practically everyday and had been avoiding him every since. But he was the closest person to Skittery's house, so he might as well try, right? Besides, maybe Bumlets would act like he wasn't pissed at anything and they could both pretend they were a few years younger and still friends.

If Bumlets didn't let him crash then he'd probably have to go to Itey's, which was quite a few blocks away. He was pretty much guaranteed a spot in Itey's car though, so it kind of made the walk worth it. Unfortunately he didn't know these guys very well…or rather: he didn't know these guys very well _anymore_. They were all childhood friends originally; they all had fucked up parents and nicknames and paper routes and made up their own twisted but happy family. Jack smiled at the memory. He had always looked at himself as the 'father' while David fit the role of 'mom' so perfectly it was comical.

Everything had changed when they started high school though. Crutchy moved away and they all kind of stopped hanging out after that.

Jack had slid into the jock circuit as soon as school started (immediately making first-string quarterback for the football team) and Swifty had joined him a little later on in the year (becoming one of the school's best track stars).

David and Specs both joined up with the nerds thanks to their good grades and David forcing Specs into multitude of academic clubs.

Racetrack, Mush, and Blink had managed to somehow stay together, most likely thanks to Mush's complete naivety when it came to cliques and Blink's complete and utter loyalty to his two friends. It wasn't some famous teach-people-cliques-are-bad revolution; no one learned any life long lessons, no one died, and nothing had changed. For the most part the three friends were just ignored.

Finally Dutchy, Bumlets, Skittery, and Itey were with the druggies and other people with unbearable childhoods. Really the entire old gang belonged in that clique (except maybe for Dave), but it was just those four that were the only ones of the old group to have come clean about it.

So they went their separate ways and made new friends (ones that weren't quite as loyal as the old gang had been) and pushed the past behind them.

Except maybe for Jack who used his four old friends from the druggie clique. He used them to help keep his tracks covered and never so much as even offered a simple 'thank you' for all their trouble. And when they were at school, Jack didn't even notice their existence.

Jack Kelly wasn't exactly as rich as he led everyone to believe, you see. The truth of the matter was that he didn't even have a home. His clothes were spread out to Dutchy's, Itey's, Bumlet's, and Skittery's homes (because they were the only four he had come to with his problem) and he moved from one house to another every night. He hadn't really told his friends what had happened and he shied away from all the questions until they had eventually just stopped asking.

"Bumlets," Jack greeted happily as he came across the lawn.

"What the hell do you want Jack?" Bumlets answered rudely.

"You've got a problem?" Jack asked, immediately falling back into jock-mode as some sort of defense mechanism that he wasn't really aware of. So much for this night not being confrontational.

"You're my fucking problem," Bumlets answered, "I heard you making fun of us with your fucking jock buddies, you fucking bastard. What the hell Jack? It's not like I expected you to fall down the social ladder a couple of bars and ruin your name by talking to us, but fuck Jack…You're laughing at the expense of people who are risking punishment to help you keep your image. Do you know what the fuck Dutchy's parents would do if they found you in his room? They'd accuse him of being a fag and they'd kick him out into the street! The least you could do is not talk shit about them."

"I wasn't talking shit," Jack argued in a loud voice before calming down slightly and continuing on a little softer, "Look, I didn't start it, Masson did, and what could I possibly do, huh? You don't argue with Masson and you sure as hell don't defend the people he's ragging on. C'mon Bum, you know he insults everyone, it's not like he's got it out for you or nothin'."

Bumlets turned around stiffly and walked to the door. "My mom's sleeping at a friend's or some shit like that; you can have the couch if you want it."

Jack flashed a smile and jogged after him, acting as if their argument had never happened.

* * *

"We're earlier than normal, you wanna stop for coffee some place? Otherwise I won't be able to stay wake in class," Blink suggested, yawning so widely his jaw popped after he had managed to get the coherent thought across.

"You never stay awake in class, coffee or not," Racetrack pointed out. He was sitting next to Blink in the driver's seat and took his eyes off the road to give his friend's head a small smack.

Still, if Blink wanted coffee then Race would get him coffee so he turned the car off the road and pulled into a Wafflehouse (because nothing else was open this early) without even consulting Mush on the idea.

"Why _did_ you pick us up so early Race?" Mush asked, jiggling the door handle in the hopes that the car door would open.

"It didn't open this morning, what makes you think the damn door will open now?" Racetrack asked, avoiding the question, "Just crawl up to the front again."

"So…early…why?" Blink asked in a scattered sentence, his tiredness coming on full force.

"Pop was out for blood this morning and Ma was absolutely no help (big surprise)," Racetrack explained, "I was just planning to wait in Mushie's driveway until the time we usually leave to go pick _you_ up, but his Mom saw me and made us leave for school. Then, I don't know…you got up super early I guess. Care to explain that?"

"Not up…Never slept…big test," Blink answered, rubbing his eyes.

"Blink, you know you could have called me, right?" Mush jumped in as soon as he had climbed out of the car, "I have that same test today; we could've helped each other study."

"Started late," Blink answered before he opened the restaurant's door.

"Jesus man, do you even _try_ at school? If you knew there was going to be a big test why didn't you prepare yourself?" Racetrack asked, worried for his friend and showing it in the true Racetrack fashion.

A waitress brought them all some coffee as soon as they sat down and Blink couldn't have been more pleased. Sipping at his hot beverage he was finally able to think more steadily. "Who needs school anyway? What do you think of male prostitute as a career choice?"

"That's disgusting Blink," Racetrack answered, sipping at his own coffee.

"You got a problem with gays, man?" Blink asked looking angered.

"Blink, he _is_ gay," Mush pointed out. "He was just saying that prostitution in general is disgusting, right?" he asked, turning to Racetrack.

"I recommend drug dealer if you decide to not finish school, it's much cooler," Racetrack recommended after nodding in agreement with Mush.

"So what would you do?" Blink asked, looking towards Racetrack.

The boy gave him a look that clearly said _that's obvious_; "Gambling addict wins over everything else for me. What about you Mush?"

"I don't know…I've always just assumed I'd finish high school; I never gave much thought to any alternatives."

"Hmm…well, how about Mush be the male prostitute then?" Racetrack asked, "He could pull it off."

"Hey! Are you implying I can't?" Blink accused, sounding pissed.

"It's the eye patch," Racetrack explained, "The only people it would attract are the kind that would kill you afterwards. With Mush…well he pretty much just attracts everyone, doesn't he?"

Mush laughed happily, not at all upset that Racetrack gave him a job that they both had agreed was disgusting just minutes ago. "Is that a compliment? I'm not quite sure."

" 'You should become a male prostitute because you're hot'," Blink said, rephrasing and trying out the sentence. He shrugged afterwards, "It's probably the best compliment you could get out of Race."

* * *

"Did you get the last answer to that English assignment?" Specs asked as soon as he reached David at his locker.

"I hated doing that homework, I almost torched it," David confided to his friend, "but I did manage to get it done. I can help you with it at lunch."

"It'd be easier if you just let me copy off of you," Specs pointed out, trying to look as pitiful as he could in the hopes that David would become too guilty _not_ to let him cheat.

David shot his friend a disappointed look. "You know how I feel about cheating, Specs."

Specs sighed. "Yeah, yeah. 'Cheating's bad and wrong and we could get in trouble'," he mocked.

"I have no problem _helping_ you with it though," David offered.

"Yeah? I guess I'll have to settle for that then. Honors English is just so much harder than the normal one," Specs complained.

"Well it is an honors class. And for the record, your comment is pretty much rubbish. You never even _took_ 'regular' English, therefore you don't really know anything about that class and can't compare Honors English to it," David corrected.

"Okay, how about 'Junior Honors English is ten times harder than Sophomore Honors English'?" Specs rephrased.

"Yeah, that's a bit better," David accepted. "Hey, I'm going down to the library to get some studying done, you want to come with me?"

"Study right before school starts? No thanks, Mouth, I'm not that big of a nerd yet," Specs replied, turning down the offer.

"Yeah well, nerds in high school are the ones that end up running the world," David reminded him with a smile before walking off towards the library with a load of books.

"Of course, Mouth," Specs called patronizingly to him, "If that's what you need to keep telling yourself… You do realize it's complete crap though, right? The fact that you're a dork will always scare normal people away."

"So you keep telling me," David replied, still moving in the general direction of the library, albeit a bit slowly. "Remember to bring that paper to lunch so I can help you on it, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Specs brushed off uncaringly. "Now get your ass to the library, you big nerd," he ordered with a grin.

* * *

"I was kind of surprised when you let Jack in your house…with you being so pissed at him and everything," Skittery said as soon as Bumlets stood beside him along one of the school's walls. He took out a cigarette and looked around for approaching teachers before lighting it up and taking a hit.

"Yeah, well, I made him sleep on the couch," Bumlets enlightened Skittery before taking out a cigarette and following his friend's lead.

"His back must be complete shit right now," Dutchy laughed as he walked towards them, blowing smoke from his mouth with the help of his own cigarette.

"Yeah well, he deserves it. We put so fucking much on the line for him and he thanks us by talking shit. If he got caught at any of our houses…you could get kicked out," Bumlets fumed, looking at Dutchy. "My parents would freak out thinking someone caught them smoking pot and would probably burn the house down in an attempt to get rid of all the pot plants currently growing in the basement, and Itey's parents would beat the shit out of him and say it was a learning experience."

"But he can't stay at my house every night, my parents are strict about that stuff too," Skittery explained, feeling guilty because his parents wouldn't do anything as drastic as what his friends' parents would do.

"I'm not asking you too," Bumlets said, shrugging, "I just meant that Jack doesn't ever see that we risk a lot of shit just to protect his image while he goes around destroying ours."

"Yeah, but really what image is there to ruin, right?" Itey broke in, coming from the side of the school with a cigarette dangling from in between his fingers. "Because I mean really, we aren't exactly on one of the 'top branches' of the 'social tree'…so to speak."

"That's true, I mean the only thing that's worse than being a druggie is being a fag, right?" Dutchy laughed for a minute before pulling back and looking worried. "You don't think Jack would tell anyone that we're gay, do you?"

"He's not _that_ big of a bastard," Bumlets replied, strangely sticking up for Jack now. "But really…who the fuck gives a shit? I'm straight."

"_I'm_ not, and neither are Skittery or Itey," Dutchy whispered, his cigarette forgotten.

"Well yeah, but me and Skitts are bi and the only gay action we get is from each other so it's not any big worry," Itey replied, taking a hit.

"Open relationships are the shit," Skittery nodded, taking in a hit too and then putting his cigarette out on the wall.

"I don't think anyone here has any gay pride at all," Dutchy complained.

"Oh please, don't act like you do; you're so far in the closet you're finding Christmas presents," Skittery argued as Itey chuckled appreciatively.

"I'm out to you three fuckers, ain't I?" Dutchy asked, proper grammar slipping a bit.

"Yeah, but Skitts and Itey are together…or not together…or whatever the hell they are and believe me, there's no way you could ever get insane enough to understand them, and I'm straight, so unless you have a fucking good plan for turning me gay, the three of us knowing doesn't really help you all that much," Bumlets pointed out. "You don't even go on dates with other guys because you're afraid it'll get out to the school. And how fucking paranoid is that?"

"It's kind of a touchy subject, okay?" Dutchy grumbled as he put out his cigarette, "I mean, what if I'm not really gay?"

"Dutchy…you're as gay as leather pants," Skittery argued, following Dutchy's example and putting out his cigarette as well. "Trust me…you like the cock."

"It's just…ya know…my parents keep saying I'm going to hell and shit…and I don't really want the whole school telling me that too," Dutchy confided to his friends.

"Dutchy," Skitts replied sympathetically, going over to his friend and putting a hand on his shoulder. "…You're gay…and you're going to hell."

"Shut the fuck up!" Dutchy shouted pushing him so hard Skittery fell on the grass.

"Now all you have to do is do that exact same thing the next time your parents bring up the gay thing and you'll be…what's the word your people use? …Fabulous?" Bumlets said with a smirk, dropping his cigarette and stomping on it.

"Fuck you," Dutchy answered. "God, I have the fucking worst fucking friends in the fucking history of the fucking world!"

"Relax man, we'll get you nice and drunk as soon as school lets out," Itey said, deciding that Dutchy had enough insults from his friends for the morning.

"Sweet ass, that's more like it," Dutchy said happily.

"God, we really are druggies," Bumlets mumbled.

"Why don't we just cut out and go get drunk now?" Dutchy suggested, ignoring Bumlets.

"Dude, it's like…not even eight in the morning yet," Itey said. "After school, I swear."

"Plus, I can't cut out early I've got like, three major tests I have to take," Skittery said.

"Since when are you into school?" Itey asked, "And why didn't you say anything about studying after we were done having phone sex?"

"Jesus Christ," Bumlets swore as he rolled his eyes.

Skittery smiled, knowing full well that they never had phone sex (because why have phone sex when you can walk a mile and get real sex?) and knowing that Itey just liked messing with their friends. "I was going to…but after we decided to go for a second round it kind of slipped my mind. You know that thing you said you were doing with your-"

"I think I'm at my quota for gay porn this month," Bumlets interrupted right as a grouped of girls were passing by. They all giggled obnoxiously before speeding up their walking. "Fuck me," Bumlets mumbled before turning to go into the building for first period.

The rest followed behind him while laughing happily, because there was nothing funnier than people thinking that Bumlets was the gay one in the group.

* * *

"Swifty," Jack greeted, giving him a weird and complicated handshake that only the jocks knew and used.

"Jack," Swifty greeted right back with a smile as he kept up the handshake with practiced ease.

"I heard you got a race today," Jack began, "How much do you think we're going to beat their asses?"

"I'm fucking ready for it Jacky; last week I managed to cut point two seconds off my run," Swifty bragged.

"Yo! Kelly! Swift!" Masson greeted before walking up to them and doing the handshake with both the underclassmen. "Swifty, you gonna kick some major ass tonight?"

"No doubt," Swifty answered happily.

"Oh, and hey man, I talked to your teachers, they said you could cut out early to start practicing for the meet whenever you want and they'll take care of everything," Masson said smugly, obviously proud of himself for accomplishing such a feat.

"Nuh-uh! Dude, I ask them to do that for me all the time and they've never said 'okay' before. Fuck, you must've had a really good sales pitch," Swifty replied excitedly.

"Hey it was no big deal, plus a lot of them owed me favors anyway. Seriously, it was as easy as finding one of the druggies high," Masson brushed off, laughing loudly at his own joke.

"So I don't have to go to the office or anything? I can just leave?" Swifty asked just to make sure.

"Yeah man, just go. The teachers just said they'll mark you as here and give you 'A's on everything you miss," Masson assured him.

"Fuck man, what blackmail have you got on these teachers?" Jack broke in.

"Oh hey, is Jack allowed to come too?" Swifty asked as if just remembering him.

"Nah, man, you're solo," Masson answered, "There's no way that I could have gotten two guys out of class, at least not in the same day anyway."

"Well me cutting out is better than nothin', right? S'long guys," Swifty said, going towards the outside doors and leaving for some unknown location.

* * *

"Fuck man, I told you not to kick in his knee cap. If he didn't have to go to the hospital you wouldn't have gotten expelled."

Spot snorted at his associate's (he didn't have friends) comment. "I'm sure. Fuck, that was what? …The fifteenth fight I've been in during this year? They would've kicked me out no matter what…at least this way I get to know the joy of sending that little bitch to the emergency room."

"Shit man, isn't that kind of demented?"

Spot shrugged, "We are Brooklyn."

"Yeah, that's another thing, why the fuck did you switch to a school in Manhattan? You're like the very definition of Brooklyn and now some new fuck is going to steal your title while you're stuck somewhere during the fucking commute."

"You're such a fuckin' girl, Slingshot. Jesus, stop being so melodramatic. I can kick any fucker's ass who thinks they can take Brooklyn from me, got it?"

"Yeah yeah, Boss, just don't let Manhattan make you soft," Slingshot replied.

"You giving me a fucking ride or what? Because if you think I'm just going to stand around and endure a lecture from you you're a lot dumber than I thought," Spot said over his shoulder, already heading out the door and into Slingshot's poor excuse for a car.


	2. Spot's First Day

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**II  
Spot's First Day**

"This it? Damn man…Manhattan," Slingshot muttered while Spot just ignored him and slammed the car door shut after he got outside.

He was a little pissed off about the fact that he was so far away from his turf…he felt…he didn't know…but it was fucking annoying…uncomfortable he guessed…with leaving his pride and joy so open like he was. It used to be that whenever anyone tried to stir up shit he'd cut class and go beat the shit out of someone and it'd be over in a half hour at most...it would be a bit harder now. He'd have to walk, or take public transportation, or call for a ride and by the time he got there his poor Brooklyn had the potential to be very fucked up.

But it wasn't good to really dwell on things like that. True, he did need to think of a better plan and he was definitely going to…but to make those plans he was going to need a lot of concentration and he doubted that he could concentrate with the annoyance and loudness of teachers everywhere around him. He had always felt a little edgy around people who thought they held authority over him.

He walked into the office with a frown on his face and if anyone in the office would have known him at all they wouldn't have been sitting around, just doing paper work and typing peacefully on computers. Unfortunately they didn't and his frown was accepted as simply the attitude all teenagers sported.

"Your name please?" the secretary asked with a fake smile.

"Sean Conlon," Spot answered with boredom.

"The new student?"

She continued when the boy didn't say anything. "Well here's your schedule and…David, honey?" she asked, looking toward the only other boy in the office. He was currently going through files in a cabinet and looking rather distraught.

"Ma'am?" the kid asked, putting the file he was looking through on the cabinet and giving her his full attention.

Spot gave a silent snort…what a fucking suck up.

"Could you please take our new student to his first class? He has his schedule but I'm afraid he doesn't really know the lay out of the school just yet," the secretary asked sweetly.

"Of course," the kid agreed, turning to Spot and smiling. "C'mon. What's your first class?"

Spot walked out following the kid. He was seriously going to hurl if the little bitch kept up the lollipops-and-rainbows act. He gave the kid his schedule, not saying anything.

"Uh…it looks like…Current Events," David pointed out, "It's over this way."

"Oh, um…I'm David by the way," the boy said after a few more seconds of quiet.

After a few more minutes the boy named David stopped walking and looked towards Spot.

"What?" Spot finally snapped.

"Well…uh…" David struggled, scrunching his eyebrows together and looking like he was at a loss for words, "Usually…I mean, it's polite to…uh…you know…well…you _know_…I mean…I just… What's your name?"

"Sean," the Brooklyn boy answered before looking expectantly at David.

"Oh, right, your class…uh…that's over here," David said, walking across the hall and up a few doors. He paused at the room. "Well, I've got to get back to the office, but I'll be happy to answer any questions you have…it looks like we have the same lunch…so…"

_Oh joy_…was pretty much the only thought that crossed Spot's mind. Him having lunch with David translated into 'needing to find someone to sit with before lunch, otherwise David would think he was lonely and try to kill him with his irritating kindness'.

Or he could just cut during lunch. That was a thought he enjoyed.

He decided to think more on his decision later before knocking on his new first period classroom door.

"Are you the new student?" the teacher who had come to the door asked.

Spot just walked in. Obviously he was the new student, who the hell else would he be?

"Uh…class, this is Sean Conlon, he just transferred so-"

"He looks like a punk," a girl loudly observed as she burst out laughing, "Which is just so funny because he's so damn _short_!"

"Tracy! That is very rude. You will-"

"Yeah?" Spot asked, tuning the teacher out, "So tell me, is your brain as small as your tits?"

"Young man! I expect you to behave like a gentleman in this class. I'll let you off with a warning this time because you're new, but this is your _only_ warning. We do not disrespect each other here. Take a seat next to Anthony," the teacher demanded after she finished her lecture, pointing towards one of the corners of the room. "As for you Tracy, you are not a new student, therefore you will not be let off as easily. You go down to the office and you tell them-"

Spot tuned the teacher out again, snorting silently to himself. Punching people was always so much more satisfying than just listening to a teacher yell at them.

"You're beside me," the boy Spot could have only assumed was Anthony said. The kid was definitely not looking for a new friend (it was rather evident in his tone) and that was just the way Spot wanted it…now if only that guy named David would get the hint.

It was about fifteen minutes into the class when Spot changed his mind…it would be really great if Anthony would talk to him…because it would distract him from his new teacher's annoying lecture…or story…or whatever the hell it was that she kept going on about.

"Well, enough about all of that," the teacher said, finally ending the torment, "This is a Current Events class, so let's have some current events. Does anyone have any recent news that they want to talk about?"

"Tony?" the teacher asked, turning towards the boy Spot was sitting next to when she noticed he wasn't paying attention, "Do you have a current event you would like to talk about?"

"Uh…I heard that gang in Brooklyn…well their leader was arrested or something like that," Tony shrugged.

Spot blinked, a little taken aback; if people thought he was arrested then it'd stir up a lot of shit…shit he'd have trouble shutting up from Manhattan. Well fuck, that wasn't good.

"Good subject," the teacher congratulated, "How many people believe that the leader of Brooklyn was arrested? And why? Everyone get out a piece of paper and a pen and tell me your opinions in a few sentences."

Spot rolled his eyes and stole the pen and paper from the kid sitting behind him, only being met with an indignant expression that Spot easily ignored. In handwriting even messier than his normal scrawl he quickly wrote:

_The leader of Brooklyn wasn't arrested because he's not stupid enough to get caught by half-wit police officers._

After that he shoved his paper aside and leaned toward Anthony. "Where the hell did you hear that Brooklyn's gang leader got arrested?"

Suddenly everyone started whispering, appearing to be done…or disinterested (which was just as good of a guess if not better).

"I heard it when I went down there yesterday…there were rumors about him flying all over the place…I just picked one," Racetrack shrugged.

"What other rumors?" Spot asked quickly, eager to learn more. He'd have to seriously look into this, which meant he was probably going to have to find a pay phone and call Slingshot. Lucky for him his second-in-command had decided to ditch high school for today.

"I don't know, there were tons…uh…one said he moved, one that he was killed…" Tony shrugged, not really seeing why it was so important.

"Were there any that claimed he was still the leader?"

"Not that I remember…there was one saying that he was such a good fighter the CIA took him in the middle of the night and he works for them now…uh…that's pretty much the closest one to him still leading anyone."

Spot grunted and turned away from Tony to look towards the front of the room. All the rumors led up to the fact that he was no long in command over Brooklyn, which meant that serious precautions had to be taken. He'd have to come late to his next class and just say he got lost, that way he'd have some time to call Slingshot and start doing everything that needed to be done to prohibit any big uprising.

"Uh…why are you so interested in the Brooklyn gang leader?" Tony asked, still looking at the new kid.

Spot turned in his seat to look at the other boy again and shrugged. "I guess I just like the gossip," he lied…and pretty damn well for someone who wanted to kill himself for uttering that sentence.

" Um…right," Tony said, not really quite believing it because out of everything that Sean's personality gave off, liking gossip wasn't part of it.

But the bell rang before Racetrack could inquire anymore and the new student bolted for the door, shoving his paper into the teacher that was busy collecting them all.

* * *

Second period was probably the best period of Racetrack's day. Not only did Blink and Mush have the same class, but also it was practically a study hall. He'd forgotten what the class was called, but it pretty much consisted of a test per day, asking your opinion about one to five different things. Then the rest of the class was spent pretty much doing whatever the hell you wanted.

"Oh hey, we got this new kid, have you seen him yet?" Racetrack asked his two friends as soon as the tests were finished.

"Nope, apparently I'm not a very good gossip queen. So, what do you know about him?" Blink asked, swinging his chair around so he was facing Racetrack as Mush did the same from beside him.

"He's…I don't know…he's kind of weird. He came in after first period started, insulted Tracy, asked what I heard about Brooklyn's leader, and then just stared at the wall for the rest of class. He also bolted when the bell rang, I'm serious, I don't even think Swifty could have beaten him out the door." Racetrack looked uncomfortable for a bit. It pretty much always happened whenever they talked about their old friends because everything was sort of unclear between them.

"Is that all you have to say? C'mon Race, was he hot or cute or ugly or what?" Mush asked, gratefully breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"You're never interested in people just for their looks. You've always disapproved of it," Blink pointed out. "And you're not even gay," he added as an after thought.

"I'm not asking for _me_. Plus, I would never trust Race to tell me what guys are hot or not, we have completely different tastes. (...One of which is the fact that I don't even like guys.) I just wanted to see what Race thought of him. So…" Mush asked again, "Is he hot?"

"Uh…I wouldn't really say 'hot'…uh…he's more…the cute type I guess," Racetrack answered a bit reluctantly because while he trusted his friends with his life he still really didn't want to discuss anyone who he thought was cute or not.

"What does he look like?" Blink pressed as he got more into it, "You've got to give us more details than that."

"Uh…he's got kind of a girly face, and he's really skinny…and um…he's pretty short I guess," Racetrack explained. "But I mean…he's definitely not the girly type…though I don't really think he can fight…'all bark and no bite', you know? But he…I mean I never really saw him check anyone out (unless you count the comment he made about Tracy's breasts being too small…but then again that wasn't a big secret to _me_ either, so that really doesn't prove much of anything) and he definitely doesn't _seem_ gay…" Race caught himself from his rambling and looked at his friends.

"Someone has a crush," Blink sang quietly.

"No I don't," Race denied, "It's just, you know, I appreciate how attractive he is, but there's definitely not going to be anything between us. I mean he's weird and…I don't know…obsessed with the Brooklyn gang leader."

"Oooh, maybe he has a crush on the gang leader…it's like a love triangle," Blink gushed, clearly only doing so to piss off Racetrack.

"Shut up, Kid, he's not even gay…so unless the Brooklyn gang leader is actually a chick…he doesn't have a crush," Race argued.

"Yeah, you tell yourself that so you can sleep at night without taking a chance to go out with a hottie," Blink argued back.

"I've actually heard that rumor…that the Brooklyn's gang leader was actually a girl," Mush broke in.

"Bullshit," Racetrack wrote off immediately, "Have you even been down to Brooklyn? There's no way a girl could even survive in a gang_ period_, let alone be a gang _leader_. Even if a girl did enter a gang, she'd be raped and killed _way_ before she made it to the upper ranks."

"That's a nice thought," Mush replied sarcastically.

"I go to the racetrack in Brooklyn every Saturday, believe me…gangs are hard-core over there," Race continued.

"How did this conversation turn to gangs? I thought we were talking about hot guys…let's get back on track boys," Blink persuaded, knowing that if he didn't Racetrack would get pissed because he knew Brooklyn better than Mush and Mush would start to frown thinking about all the unfortunate people that got wrapped up in gangs.

* * *

"Slingshot," Spot greeted as soon as the phone was picked up at the other end.

"Boss, glad you called, rumors are flying all over the place saying you're dead and shit."

"I heard," Spot answered with great displeasure in his voice. "Send someone out who's trustworthy but people don't know. Uh…get What's-His-Name…Shakey…Twittery…."

"Tremble?"

"That's the one. Okay, send him out into the streets, _just_ telling people I'm alive and am still in the same…position," Spot commanded, looking around for people coming through the hall, "I have not stepped down and I don't intend to. Next, send someone with a car over here so just in case a fight _does_ break out I can be there as fast as possible."

"Who do you want?"

"Speed, Slingshot, if I want a car I always want Speed. How the fuck do you keep forgetting that?"

"Sorry, okay, so we need Speed and Tremble. What else are you planning on doing?"

"Send most of the small time recruits out into the streets and see if they hear anything about any fights…and I mean _any_, got it? If it sounds even a little like a fight beginning or if people are planning for one they are to report it immediately."

"Yessir."

"Do the usual checks too; both offensive and defensive weapons need to be gone over to make sure everything works. If it doesn't hand it over to Gadget and if he can't get it to work tear it up for parts and smash everything else. And by smash I mean 'breaking it so fucking bad there is no way to use it or to even know if it used to _be_ a weapon'." Spot glanced around the hall, expecting bad luck to smack him in the back of the head and put the principal directly behind him while he talked about things that could easily get him expelled…not that he would have really minded being expelled…but if he didn't go to school his life would start to become a little dull, so he kept going in the hopes that something exciting would happen.

"Smashing…no worries there…most people here would enjoy breaking things immensely."

Spot smirked, "As for you, you are to oversee everything, stick to the plan, and feel free to use my name to get things done faster or if something needs tweaking and they decide not to listen to you."

"Wow…I'm like…in charge and shit."

"You're second-in-command, what the fuck did you expect? Just don't you dare think for one minute you own Brooklyn, because Brooklyn is mine. If you don't follow my orders or if you do something behind my back I won't hesitate to end your life," Spot threatened, "Any changes you make, no matter how small, you are to tell me, either face-to-face or in a file report."

"We don't have file reports," Slingshot pointed out.

"Well then, if you'd rather file reports than talk to me you better start getting it together."

"Thanks so much for _that_ option," Slingshot said, rolling his eyes even though Spot couldn't see him.

"Get started," Spot demanded, hanging up the phone and feeling grateful that he hadn't run out of pocket change. He stretched, feeling at least a little more at ease before walking around the school in an attempt to find whatever classroom he was supposed to be in.

* * *

"New kid?" Specs asked quietly as he pretended to read his textbook. "What's he like?"

"Uh…shy, I guess…he didn't really talk much," David answered just as quietly.

"So? Is there a reason we're talking about this kid in the classroom with the bitchiest teacher in the school?" Specs asked, discreetly looking around for said teacher.

"Well…this is the only class we have together before lunch," David explained, "and I was kind of hoping he could sit with us…but then I remembered that you don't really like new people if you meet them through a friend (which is more than a little weird if you ask me). In other words, I wanted to check it over with you before I invited him to our table or something."

"Oh well…I guess it's okay…I mean it's not like he'll have anyone else to sit with and I'm not going to be a bastard," Specs agreed.

David smiled. "Thanks Specs."

Specs shrugged. "Eh, what can I say? I'm a swell guy like that," he answered with some sarcasm.

"Alan! No talking! You are to write 'I will not talk in class' one hundred times, on one side of loose leaf paper and I want it on my desk first thing in the morning," the teacher yelled at Specs.

David just gave him an apologetic smile and shrugged when his friend glared angrily.

* * *

Third period Skittery and Itey were assigned seats next to each in the back of class. Ironically they had been placed there while in the middle of a fight and weren't too flattered with the idea then.

But things were different now, definitely more relaxed. Skittery stopped trying to run away from the idea of a relationship and Itey stopped pressuring him. Amazingly, they still dated girls whenever they wanted and only really showed any affection towards each other to creep out Bumlets (which seemed to be getting harder the more he got used to it). Now they were more fuck buddies than anything else, but quite honestly neither really knew what was going on between them and neither one really cared all that much to change the relationship and risk losing it.

"I wonder if Mr. Wisel would care if we started making out," Skitts whispered into Itey's ear as soon as class started.

"You're kind of a slut," Itey stated, acting as if this were the first observation of his friend's slutty tendencies he had ever made. "What? Are you looking to be outed?" And even though he smiled good-naturedly his stomach twisted in anticipated because Skitts was the one with all the trust issues and being outed was a fucking huge step.

"I'm just bored. The Weasel's not only a bad teacher, he's also rather unpleasant to look at," Skitts replied, seeming to be completely oblivious towards all the second meanings of Itey's question.

"Yeah, I'm definitely in agreement with you," Itey chuckled, quickly letting go of any disappointment, because really, this thing with Skitts was just casual and he needed to start treating it like that.

"So what class do you have after this?" Itey asked after some moments of silence.

"Uh…Chemistry…though really all we do is sit around and talk, so it's not actually Chemistry at all, the class just pretends it is," Skitts explained, "Even the fucking stoners are getting 'A's."

Itey snorted quietly and rolled his eyes, "Dude, you do realize the stoners that you're talking about...not only are they your friends but you're considered a stoner yourself, right?"

"Yeah, like I said, even _I_ get 'A's in that class."

"You wanna ditch fourth period then?" Itey asked, chuckling silently.

"Don't you have that computer class? I thought you really liked that. Are people making fun of you and calling you a geek?" Skitts asked, the second question asked with sarcasm.

"More like I got done on a project due at the end of next week, and all we're doing is finishing them up so there's not much for me to do anymore."

"That's what you get for being an over-achiever, man; serves you right."

"So? Come ditch with me. Since lunch is fifth period we can just cut out, eat something, and come back in time for sixth," Itey explained.

"God, even your plans to ditch are well thought out. How the hell are you not in Honors classes?"

"It's a waste of time; it's not like I'm going to college or anything. Plus, if I did have all honors classes I wouldn't see any of you or Dutchy."

"Bumlets takes honors classes?" Skitts asked when he noticed Bumlets wasn't on the list, even though he didn't quite believe it.

"Just for math; the kid's a fucking genius with numbers, I swear."

"Psch, that just means he's obviously not smoking enough pot," Skitts brushed off.

"Oh man, your head is severely fucked up," Itey laughed.

* * *

Spot ran straight back to the phone as soon as third period let out. "Slingshot, what's the news?"

"Either really good or really bad."

"Can't find any fights? Not even one has broken out?" Spot asked with surprised after he jumped to the conclusion of what his second-in-command meant.

"Uh…one, but they were drunk and way too old to care about gangs."

"Keep on the-" Spot started before an annoying tapping on his shoulder interrupted him. "What the hell do you want?" he snapped.

"Uh…sorry to interrupt you but…um I really need to use the phone so, I mean, if you don't mind…" Mush said, trying to be as polite as possible.

"I do," Spot answered.

"What?" Mush asked, a little surprised at his answer.

"I do mind, so fuck off," Spot answered before turning back to his phone conversation.

"Who was that?" Slingshot asked, thinking that thanks to some miracle Spot had actually found a contact at the school.

"Some fucktard," Spot explained, aware that the 'fucktard' in question was still behind him. "Anyway, keep checking…it's way too unbelievable that no one's trying to fuck shit up."

"Eh, I don't know, there are so many stories circulating about you that no one really trusts in them anymore. And they definitely wouldn't have enough balls to go through with something that could get them killed based on a fucking a rumor."

"Yeah, alright. ...So this fucktard needs to use the phone or something. Bye Babe," Spot said.

Slingshot immediately knew what he was doing. "Oh god, don't use me to help you freak some poor kid out."

"Oh, and tell your mom I'm sorry I missed her, I had some shit to do…mostly you. Anyway, I'll get her tomorrow," Spot continued, leaning his side against the wall so he wasn't looking at the kid who wanted the phone.

"Oh hey, since you're not hanging up right away I'd thought I should tell you: Speed bought a new car or painted his old one or did some illegal shit to get it…"

"Oh c'mon, threesomes aren't so bad…I'll talk you through it," Spot answered.

"Anyway," Slingshot continued, completely ignoring his boss, "he's just going to be waiting for you outside the school doors…the backdoors I'm guessing, because for some reason he doesn't like the ones out front."

"What's it matter if it's your mom?" Spot asked, still seeing that the guy who wanted the phone hadn't left, but instead just stood there trying not to look disgusted.

"…I mean everywhere, not just at the school, though I'd imagine you already knew that. It really is fucking weird though, don't you think?" Slingshot finished.

"No, baby, I talked to your mom and she's fine with it," Spot replied.

"Right, anyway, so his car's red now," Slingshot pushed on, "Either that or blue. No, maybe it's white? Okay, honestly, I don't really know, but I'm sure you'll find him."

"It's your mom's problem to worry about your dad, Hun," Spot said, "Look, if it'll make you feel any better he can join in too."

"Okay, can I go now?" Slingshot asked, "Because to be completely honest this is starting to gross even me out. My _dad_? Seriously, man? Ew."

"Well see? Problem solved. Bye Babe," Spot answered, finally hanging up the phone. "It's all yours," Spot smiled, patting the other boy's shoulder slightly before walking down the hall and letting himself release a silent but happy chuckle before he started looking for what class he had next.

Mush looked more than a little disgusted and he could still feel where the other boy's hand had touched him and…ugh…that was just beyond awful. He walked away without using the phone.

* * *

Jack stared ahead at the wall as fourth period began. He had never noticed how boring this class was before; he always had Swifty cracking a joke or whispering excitedly into his ear. But Swifty had taken off so he sat in his seat with nothing to do.

"Hey Jack," Sarah smiled as she turned around in her seat so she could face him. The teacher drowned on, either not seeing the disruption of the class or not caring.

"Sarah," Jack smiled, he didn't even know she had this class with him, which helped him realize how much of a distraction Swifty really was.

Sarah was a cheerleader. She was certainly not high up in command in her clique (probably because of her brother David and his low social status), but she was still a cheerleader and therefore deemed cool enough by his friends to talk to Jack without a riot breaking out.

"I absolutely detest this class," Sarah said, rolling her eyes at something the teacher said that Jack didn't quite catch. "And there are zero good parties this weekend too," she continued to grumble. "I don't suppose you've heard anything."

Jack shrugged, "Swift or Masson will probably end up throwing a pretty good one together if they do well at the track meet this afternoon."

"I hope it's at Masson's house…Swifty's is a bit cramped, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," agreed the boy who regularly slept in the back seat of cars, "I know exactly what you mean."

"I'd throw it at my house but…well you know…with David and everything…he'd probably want to come and be a huge embarrassment."

Sarah lived in one of the good houses, which were clear across town from the poor houses where Jack crashed every night. It was like the two places kept as far away from each other as possible and the people living there did the exact same thing.

"Right, yeah," Jack laughed, trying hard not to think about how he had once been great friends with David.

"But Masson's house is huge, so it's not like I have any problem partying there," Sarah continued on happily.

"Yeah," Jack agreed again, trying to keep his mind off the lecture and focus on Sarah.

"Hey, why don't we ever have a party at your house? You don't live in one of those run down houses on the other side of town anymore, do you?" Sarah asked, whispering the second question as if it would be embarrassing if anyone ever found out that Jack was once poor…and really, it kind of would be.

"Nah, I moved out of that rat hole before freshman year," Jack answered truthfully enough.

"So? Why have you never had a party there?"

"I don't know…it seems like whenever I could there's an already excellent party planned. Plus, I mean, I don't really like all the work associated with being a host; I'd rather just attend."

"Yeah? Well I guess that makes sense, especially with our group of friends; they don't really clean up after themselves at a party, do they?" Sarah asked with a smile.

* * *

Spot looked around the lunchroom, quickly sliding into the crowds as soon as he saw David. Unfortunately the other boy seemed to have already seen him, as he was walking in his direction and smiling.

Spot immediately found the closest group of people and sat down with them. He didn't notice the odd stares he got from the four other guys; he was too busy smirking in triumph as David's face fell and he walked away.

"Uh…hi," Dutchy greeted, a little confused at to why this kid was sitting with them since no one ever went anywhere near them unless all the other groups had abandoned him. And even if people did sit with them they always looked quite pissed about it while this kid was smirking and looking…proud, he guessed. "I'm Dutchy."

"Skittery," another boy announced.

"Itey," the third boy said, talking around the food in his mouth.

"Bumlets," the last one grumbled out.

"And you're…" Dutchy began when the other boy failed to state his name.

"Sean," Spot answered, turning towards the group and letting his smirk turn back into a frown.

"So what'd you do to get banished here?" Dutchy asked, trying to keep up a conversation.

Spot just looked at him.

"Why are you sitting with us?" Itey rephrased for his friend.

Spot glared before deciding it wasn't a big deal to answer, especially since if these people dumped him there was no doubt that David would come by a scoop him up. "I had to get away from an annoyance."

"Ah, good idea. No one ever comes by us," Skitts explained.

"But…uh…seriously? You might not want to sit with us…because if you do you're going to turn into a social outcast just like all of us," Itey explained.

Spot let out an amused sound from the back of his throat. "Yeah, and I care what a bunch of pansy-assed high schoolers think of me."

Itey shrugged, "Just letting you know."

Spot didn't answer, silently thinking that if it meant David not talking to him (which certainly seemed the case since he had quickly turned away) then he didn't really care about anything else.

* * *

Spot stood in the front of the room and rolled his eyes as his sixth period teacher introduced him to the class. Seriously, did they have to keep reminding people that he was new? Gossip spread like a forest fire between high schoolers; they already new about him before he was even introduced at this point.

"You can sit right there, Mr. Conlon, next to Mr. Stevens," the teacher said (apparently done with pointing him out to the class) as he pointed to a two-person table where only one person sat.

"Call me Specs," the boy said as soon as Spot had sat down next to him. "You're that new kid David wanted to have sit with us, right?"

"Is there more than one new student?" Spot asked, a little irritated at the other's stupidity.

"Uh…no, I guess not," Specs answered before continuing, "Anyway, David was kind of bummed out when you sat with Bumlets and the others. Do you mind sitting with us next lunch period?"

Spot turned to the other boy and paused for a few seconds before giving a very stern "Yes" and turning back to the front of the classroom.

"What? Yes?"

"Yes, I do mind sitting with you morons, so, no, I won't do it," Spot tried to explain.

"Look, David's kind of…well…I mean, he likes to feel appreciated," Specs pressed on, "He'll feel really bad for weeks if you don't."

"But I won't be around him so I don't give a shit," Spot explained, not turning towards the other boy this time.

"So? What do you want? State your terms," Specs offered.

Spot gave another amused grunt from the back of his throat. "You really don't have anything that would make me sit with that suck-up."

"Twenty bucks," Specs tried to bargain.

"Twenty bucks will only work if you don't care if I spend my lunch beating the shit out of your friend," Spot warned.

"Fifty bucks?" Specs asked, not as sure that this would work.

"Fifty bucks now and fifty bucks later," Spot answered.

Specs hesitated, because as unbearable as Dave would be for quite a while if Spot never sat with them, being out a hundred bucks was pretty extreme.

"If you keep hesitating I'll up it to two hundred," Spot threatened nonchalantly.

"Okay, okay," Specs finally decided. "Here's the fifty bucks," he said, digging into his wallet. "You sit with us on Monday and I give you the other fifty in this class, deal?"

"Yeah, whatever," Spot answered back, swiping the fifty bucks from the other boy and swiftly putting it into his own wallet.

* * *

Blink stretched as he walked towards his seventh period class, wishing he could cut out early. Unfortunately his big test was for eighth period so he had to stick around.

He stumbled into his class (art) and quickly took a seat next to an easel. The art teacher was pretty easy going and let the students sit wherever they wanted, as long as they didn't switch seats after class officially started. Blink really enjoyed the freedom, but at the same time Mush and Racetrack didn't take art, so he didn't really have anyone to sit next to. Instead he just rushed into class to be the first one seated and let the rest of the students decide who was sitting next to him.

And today he didn't know who it was.

"Hey," he greeted, "Blink."

Spot turned to look at the idiot that he was forced to sit next to and gave him a look that made it clear that he thought the other boy was stupid. Why the hell was he supposed to blink?

"Uh…I mean, that's my name: Blink," the boy corrected as if he knew he knew exactly what the other boy was thinking.

"Sean," Spot sighed, knowing that if he didn't answer he'd probably just get bothered until he did.

Luckily, before Blink could respond the teacher swept into the room.

"Okay class, listen up: get paint and canvases. Today we're going to be doing an exercise about expressing feelings through art," she announced.

"Uh…I can get the canvases and paint for both of us," Blink offered, already standing up.

Spot shrugged, not really caring. "Whatever."

Blink soon came back with Spot's supplies.

"Alright, quiet down," the teacher commanded without any strictness in her voice. "This is going to be involving both mental sensitivity and interpretation…oh, and of course painting as well," she corrected.

Spot rolled his eyes. '_Mental sensitivity'_? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"First you all will search deep inside yourselves and draw out the emotion you feel the most; what emotion seems to represent you. Focus on that emotion while you paint. Try and actually _see_ it. Then paint what you see on your canvas. Now, this is a very revealing exercise so no looking over other people's shoulders at their work. What you paint has to be you. And, when we show everyone our finished paintings anyone being disrespectful will be sent out into the hall immediately," the teacher explained.

"Go on, begin," she encouraged when no one moved. And the room jumped into action while kids closed their eyes and thought of what to do.

Blink thought, not really having an easy time with it. He didn't really know which emotion he favored above all the others. It was definitely a happy feeling…but it couldn't really be called happy...happy was so clichéd…it was more that he just felt like laughing and having a good time. What emotion was that? And how was he supposed to paint his emotions if he didn't even know if they were actually official emotions or not.

Spot rolled his eyes again, not really enjoying this assignment. What emotion did he feel the most? Fuck if he knew, but this whole fucking day was starting to really piss him off.

And with that thought, he grabbed the red paint and dumped it all over his canvas. Then he claimed it done as a painting showing that he was pissed off. He grinned in triumph and settled in for a small nap before the rest of the idiots finished.

Blink thought until he just decided to draw a picture of Racetrack and Mush since they were the ones that usually brought him the feeling of needing to laugh and have fun.

* * *

Spot woke up due to someone poking him in the shoulder and immediately got annoyed. "What?" he snapped as he opened his eyes and glared at Blink.

"You're going to be next to show the class your painting," Blink explained quickly and quietly right before the teacher asked Spot to reveal and explain his painting.

Spot flipped his canvas towards the rest of the class with the help of his feet, not bothering to rise from his chair. "Pissed off," he announced before leaning back in his chair and waiting for whoever was next to go.

"Sean!" the teacher shouted excitedly. "That's exactly the type of thing I wanted to see. Abstract! Emotions are not material things or people. Those are just the things that bring them to the surface. Therefore, material things and people cannot describe them. Emotions are intangible, flowing, and Sean has showed precisely that in his painting," she gushed.

Spot smirked when most of the class turned to glare at him because they knew he had taken seconds to do the work and then had just slept. Spot loved the fact that people would get pissed over the teacher not gushing over them. Fortunately, that made all the attention and gushing worth it. He had always loved irony.

* * *

Spot walked out of his seventh period with his smirk still in place.

It slid off as soon as he saw that he had gym next.

He hated gym…absolutely detested it. He definitely wasn't bad at sports; it was just the whole idea of it. What the hell could gym teach him? Nothing. He might've felt differently if it taught something useful like self-defense or weapons training. That was considered exercise, right?

But then again it didn't really take away everything that was wrong with gym. The locker rooms stunk, the showers were always covered in mold, and it was an all-boys class. …At least, that's the way it had been for him at all his previous schools, and he didn't really have any reason to think differently about this school.

He walked into his class a bit late (apparently the school had found having three completely different and separate gyms necessary) and was a little disgusted at what it seemed like they were supposed to do today.

Football and baseball were one thing, but wrestling was just a whole other level of gay.

"You're the new kid right?" some kid asked before continuing even though Spot hadn't answered. "C'mon, let's see what you got."

"I don't wrestle," Spot answered calmly, walking away and sitting on the first step of the bleachers. It didn't look like the teacher was even here so he sure as hell wasn't going to put on one of those knee-length spandex suits everyone else was wearing and start rolling on the floor with another guy.

"What? Are you scared or something? Don't worry, I won't hurt you too bad," the kid ensured with a smug grin.

Spot just glared.

"C'mon boys, let's help him," the boy said as two other guys grabbed Spot by the arms.

Spot didn't fight back because quite truthfully the kid was annoying him and gym would be the perfect excuse as to why he got "accidentally" hurt.

"C'mon, ya girl, let's go," the boy demanded as Spot was pushed onto the mat and a circle was made around them, assuring neither boy could just run away.

Spot ducked and ran to the other side of the mat when the boy lunged at him as if he had wanted a hug. He'd never really bothered to learn the rules of wrestling though, so he didn't exactly know what he could or couldn't do.

Suddenly someone cuffed him on the head hard enough for him to stumble forward and see the room spinning. And it sure as shit wasn't the guy he was fighting because he had been on the other side of the mat the entire time. _Well, fuck it then_, he thought to himself as the kid easily knocked him to the floor and started punching. If they weren't going to follow the rules then he sure as hell wasn't going to.

Spot kicked out with a foot and managed to hit his opponent hard enough so that he stopped punching. With great speed he grabbed the guy's hand and twisted. Everyone looked terrified when they heard a loud _pop_.

"Fuck," the boy under Spot winced through his clenched teeth. "You fucking broke my arm you fucking-"

Spot let him go with a disgusted look on his face. "I just popped the joint a little out of place. Fuck, don't be such a pussy." One glare towards a group of people helping to create the circle made them quickly get out of his way and Spot calmly walked out the door and into the hall. Fuck gym in the ass…he didn't need it.

"Hey," Jack called out, racing to keep up with the new kid who had just kicked Masson's ass. "You know you should really think of joining up with the wrestling team. I mean, you were really good, and with a little training you could be kicking ass in a couple of weeks." It was rare that Jack gave people compliments and if he was being honest he couldn't wait to see the new kid's face when he realized that _the_ Jack Kelly was actually complimenting him.

Spot turned around, his face expressionless. "I don't really do wrestling, but talk to me again if it ever develops into anything more than just foreplay before all the guys shower together." Without even waiting for a reply he turned around and walked off.

Jack stared after him for a few minutes before rolling his eyes and going back to the gym so he would get there before the coach showed up. Unfortunately as he lined up to get in a match the coach arranged he suddenly started to kind of see what the new kid was saying. He took off early with the excuse that he wasn't feeling well.

* * *

"Sean, right?" Dutchy asked as soon as he saw the new kid leaning up against his and his friend's wall smoking.

"And you're…what was it? …Duck or something," Spot answered back calmly has he blew smoke out of his mouth, hardly seeming upset that he couldn't remember the other boy's name.

"Dutchy," the boy corrected before changing the subject, "I didn't know you smoked." He took out his own cigarette as Itey and Skitts walked over with Bumlets trailing behind.

Spot just shrugged as he saw the other boys he had sat with at lunch coming towards the wall, all with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths.

"Sweet man, you really do belong with the druggies," Skittery laughed.

"Just don't, like, rat us out or anything," Itey warned.

Spot ignored him as he smoked his cigarette. Speed was around here somewhere, standing next to the back door (or so Slingshot had said), but he couldn't find him (not that he was really looking very hard).

"So what, do you take the bus home? We could give you a ride if you're close. Itey has a pretty rockin' car considering he blows all his money on drugs," Dutchy offered.

"Don't offer to give him a ride in _my_ car, you asshole," Itey snapped, though really, he didn't care too much, he just didn't want Dutchy to feel like he had some say on it.

"I got a ride coming…or something," Spot muttered, quickly scanning the parking lot again. It was half empty at this point and he had been staring at it since eighth period.

"Well, we could give you a ride. If anything you can just hang out with us until you've got the whole ride thing set up…I mean, depending on how far away you live," Itey offered.

"What the hell man? How come you can do that and I can't?" Dutchy complained.

"'Cause it's not your fucking car, stupid," Bumlets answered for his friend.

"God, I was being nice," Dutchy said, rolling his eyes but letting it go for the most part.

Spot almost accepted their offer. He needed to get to Brooklyn as fast as possible and if Speed wasn't here it'd be quite difficult. He could just let them drop him off at the bridge, and then he could walk from there. Fortunately those plans were dashed.

"Boss," Speed greeted, coming up beside him and looking pleased.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Some…business came up…Slingshot can explain it better than I can," Speed answered, shrugging.

"Fine," Spot accepted, smashing his cigarette. "Come on, move your ass."

"Chauffeur," Spot answered with a shrug as he saw the four guys' confused expressions.

"Fuck me," Bumlets mumbled, "A fucking rich kid just joined the druggies."

"Maybe we can get more expensive drugs now," Dutchy suggested happily.

Skitts snorted, "Come on, Dutchy, we're small time. We couldn't handle the big drugs."

"And we're not going to try them either, because that's just stupid," Itey continued for his…boyfriend…friend…fuck buddy…whatever the hell Skitts was to him.


	3. Knock Me Over One More Time

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**III  
Knock Me Over One More Time**

"A fight broke out is all," Slingshot shrugged, "We thought it was going to be really massive so we called Speed over…you know, to get as many men as we could."

"And you didn't come and get me?" Spot asked with skepticism clear in his voice.

"It was dangerous. These people weren't creating a fight because you _were_ dead, they were starting it because they _wanted_ you dead," Slingshot explained.

"That's never stopped me from being in a fight before," Spot reminded his friend.

"Yeah, okay, you won that round. I'll inform you next time," Slingshot promised, looking a little guilty.

"Good," Spot accepted, walking away and trying to find Speed.

* * *

"Boss?" he asked from the middle of a crowd of people as soon as Spot had made eye contact.

"Come with me." He grabbed his cane before going into the back alleyway, and some tension released from his shoulders as he carried his favorite weapon.

Speed followed his boss towards the door and into the back seat of his precious car. "Uh…boss…"

"What were you doing that you couldn't pick me up on time?" Spot asked bluntly.

"Uh…well you see Boss…Slingshot said to not talk about it," Speed explained, slightly cowering from beneath the other boy's glare.

"Who has the superior status?" Spot reminded him quietly. "Now tell me what you were doing."

"I'm not sure exactly; he said not to ask questions. He…um…gave me a package and had me deliver it and then told me to race over and pick you up," Speed answered.

"What was the address where you dropped the package off?"

"It was on Sherman Street…uh…I remember it was apartment 102…1492…I think was the address."

"Good," Spot complimented, not making it look like he thought it was good at all. "Did he tell you anything else, any information that I would find useful? Tell me even if you think I already know."

"He didn't talk about it much Boss, just handed me the package and the directions and made me swear to god that I wouldn't tell anyone anything about it," Speed answered.

"He actually made you _swear to god_?" That struck Spot as weird, given the fact that Slingshot hated anything that had anything to do with god.

"Yeah, but it's no big deal because even in comparison to god you're more powerful," Speed enlightened his boss.

Spot smirked in what could only be pride.

"Though that's not a _huge_ compliment since I'm an atheist; to me an ant is more powerful than god," Speed continued.

"Get the hell out of my sight," Spot snapped while still holding onto his smirk.

* * *

"Sean has my art class," Blink announced as soon as he joined his two friends in Mush's basement.

"I haven't seen him yet," Mush admitted. "So? From your point of view…how hot is he?"

"He's super pretty…I swear if he grew his hair out a little longer people would start mistaking him for a girl," Blink laughed. "And Race was telling the truth when he said he was skinny; it looks like he hasn't eaten for more than a month."

"So unhealthy skinny?" Mush asked to make sure.

"Definitely," Blink nodded.

"It's not unhealthy…it's not like he looks like a skeleton or anything," Racetrack argued in a weird attempt to defend the new kid.

"Oh, and he's cocky…and smug…" Blink continued, ignoring Racetrack.

"He's…he's not that bad," Racetrack tried to explain, not realizing his friends had tuned him out.

"In art class he actually had the balls to splatter red paint all over his canvas and then tell the art teacher it was a painting symbolizing how pissed off he was," Blink continued.

"Did he really?" Racetrack asked in amazement.

"I have to admit he is sort of cute in a…tame-the-wild-beast sort of way. And I could definitely bear his attitude problem if it meant I could fuck him," Blink decided to tell his friends. "I can definitely tell why Racetrack would have a crush on him."

"I don't have a crush!" Race yelled.

Mush giggled first before Blink quickly joined him.

"Ah, shut up," Race demanded.

His friends just laughed louder.

* * *

"God, I'm bored," Itey announced from his position below Skittery on the couch.

"We can make fun of Dutchy for his new crush," Skittery suggested happily.

"Oh yeah," Bumlets agreed with a smile, really just happy that his friends hadn't decided to make fun of him for not sleeping with guys. "So Dutchy, when did you first realize you were infatuated with our new friend Sean?"

"It's…it's not a crush, alright?" Dutchy answered, "I mean he's so obviously straight that it'd be pathetic to get a crush on him."

"But it's not like we blame you, I mean some straight guys are really hot," Itey replied with understanding.

"Itey had the biggest crush on Bumlets at one point," Skitts confessed.

"Yeah…that was what our first break up was about," Itey smiled fondly, thinking more about the making-up stage rather than the fighting stage of the break up.

"You had a crush on me?" Bumlets asked, choking a little on the beer that he had been drinking.

"Yeah, but you were pretty adamant about staying in the closet," Itey explained, shaking his head sadly.

"I'm not in the closet; I'm straight. How can you not see the difference?" Bumlets announced with some annoyance.

"Please, have you ever slept with any guys? How do you know you aren't just bisexual?" Dutchy asked, happy to take the pressure off of himself.

"I'm sure," Bumets answered without wavering.

"Because you've slept with a guy?" Skitts continued for Dutchy.

"Yeah," Bumlets answered, managing to make Skittery fall from the couch, Itey choke on the beer he was in the middle of chugging, and Dutchy loosen his bottle of beer from his fingertips and letting it crash to the floor all at the same time.

"When the fuck did that happen?" Itey asked first because he was the one that recovered quickest.

"_How_ the fuck did that happen?" Dutchy asked next, quickly recovering after Itey.

"I don't know," Bumlets shrugged, "I was at this party making out with this chick. We verbally agreed to have sex, we went into her room, and she did a strip tease. Then I found out she wasn't so much a woman as a girly-looking male. Of course, it wasn't like he was trying to dress as a woman; sure, his hair was a little long and he had his ears pierced…but anyway…when I finally regained the ability to think he was already completely undressed. I couldn't really say 'Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were a woman' so I just…forced myself to have a good time…except it was too uncomfortable to really work out that way."

"Maybe he was just really bad at having sex," Dutchy suggested.

"No, he was…good I guess. It was just his dick and lack of boobs that threw me off," Bumlets shrugged.

Skittery started laughing hysterical. "So really," he said between gasps, "the gay guy in the group is the only one that's never slept with a guy."

"Sh-shut up! Bumlets!" Dutchy said, turning towards Bumlets in the hopes that he would defend him (because Itey never would, if just for the sole reason that it was Skittery's insult).

"What? I'm not sleeping with you," Bumlets replied with a small smile as he got out a cigarette and lit it.

He made a startled sound before he shouted, "Fuck you," over the laughter. He didn't leave though, and no one really considered him angry so they just kept laughing.

"Hey man," Itey announced as some of the laughter died down, "No smoking in my room; my parents would seriously flip.

"Took you long enough to notice," Dutchy pointed out, eager to get the insults directed at someone else.

Bumlets nodded in agreement with Dutchy as he took another hit.

"Just put it out…seriously man. I don't want to be wearing a black eye tomorrow; it would completely ruin the outfit I picked out," Itey said, making sure to joke so his friends didn't get too serious and try to talk to him about his abusive parents.

"I should get home anyway," Bumlets claimed as he threw his cigarette out the window. "Ma's getting paranoid about cops so I have to watch her and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"You need help?" Dutchy asked.

"Nah, high people are amazingly easy to take care of; you just give them food and it usually shuts them up for awhile," Bumlets explained with a shrug.

"I should go too, and walking home's always better with another person," Skittery announced, jumping up from where he had fallen after Bumlets' confession.

"I can drive you," Itey offered, taking his car keys out of his pocket.

"Nah man, your parents will be home soon and you need to get the cigarette smell covered up," Dutchy pointed out, standing up and getting ready to leave too.

"And it's not like we live very far," Bumlets shrugged, "So it's not like it's a big deal."

"I'll take the ride," Skitts announced as if it was the obvious choice.

"No you won't," Bumlets corrected, smacking him in the head.

"See ya man," Dutchy said to Itey has he dragged his other two friends out of the house.

* * *

"What time do you want to go to that party?" Jack asked before chomping down on his fast food burger.

"Eh…I wasn't really planning on going," Swifty shrugged.

"Why man? You totally kicked ass tonight and the party _is_ for you," Jack persuaded.

Swifty just snorted, "Yeah, right. The party's for Masson to show off how much money he has some more. Don't pretend like you're that stupid."

"Alright, yeah, it is," Jack admitted with a smile. "But it's not like you can't get something out of it too."

"I'm just getting tired of all his bullshit. I mean, people are only friends with him because he practically bribes them," Swifty pointed out.

"He's not that bad," Jack defended.

"Yeah he is, Jack. And I don't know," Swifty said quietly, "sometimes I just wished I had _real_ friends, like before, ya know?"

"Ya still got me though," Jack tried to point out helpfully.

"You can't take the place of everyone Jack," Swifty pointed out. "You don't have an eye patch, you're not painfully oblivious to the world around you, you don't gamble, you're not anything like a mother-"

"I get it, okay? I guess I just don't think about it much."

"Yeah, but you gotta. We're popular; we can go down in social status if we really wanted to and hang out with our real friends again."

"Stop living in the past, man. That whole friendship thing is way over. And even if we did manage to get the old gang back together, you really think things would be the same as they were? We were just stupid little kids then, and it's easy to have best friends when you're still all innocent," Jack explained.

Swifty sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he admitted.

"So? Go to the party with me," Jack said with a smile, interrupting and ending the serious silence that had just loomed above them.

Swifty laughed, letting Jack know that, yes, serious time was indeed over. "I actually got plans."

"Instead of the party?"

"Yeah, my mom wants me to do some errands, and you know how she is when I disobey her. Anyway, if it doesn't take too long I'll probably stop by after," Swifty explained.

"Okay," Jack accepted with a smile and a shrug, "But when I have all the cheerleaders hanging off me don't complain and ask to share because it isn't going to happen."

* * *

"God I'm so bored!" Specs complained loudly.

"You're the one who agreed to study with me," David pointed out, looking up from his homework yet again.

"Yeah, but I didn't actually think you wanted to _study_."

David gave him an odd look, "After all these years as friends you thought that when I asked you over to study I didn't mean it? I'm kind of offended."

"It's a _Friday night_!"

"I'm _David_."

"_Please_, I'm begging you, put down your textbook for a couple of hours. We can go to a club, pick up some chicks, you know, _not_ act like old men."

"I'm not going to pick up some girl at a club!" David burst out, looking affronted.

"Okay, okay, fine…we'll go to a gay club and pick up _dudes_, whatever, I don't care; let's just _go_ somewhere."

"I'm not going to be picked up by some dude! He could be dangerous!" David objected, making Specs inwardly laugh because his excuse was not the ordinary 'I'm not gay,' that people would usually make.

"David, we're teenagers, we're supposed to go out and you know…actually do stuff…" Specs tried to explain, "Fun stuff, exciting stuff, stuff that doesn't involve sitting on your living room floor and doing homework that isn't due until we get back to school on Monday."

"School is important."

"Yes Davey, school is important, but having an actual life is kind of important too. Come out from behind your books and experience high school for once."

"I guess I could try it," David reluctantly agreed, "Is there a club that minors can get into?"

"Yes! Thank god!" Specs exclaimed, happy to finally be able to drag David away from homework. "Come on, let's go!" he said excitedly, already throwing down his homework and heading to the door.

* * *

"What the hell did you do?" Spot growled out as he shoved Slingshot against a wall.

Sean Conlon was in no way big. He was short and skinny; a perfectly terrible body to fight in. …But Spot was an exception. He was a lot stronger than he looked and seemed to know all the right places to punch to have his opponent screaming in agony, add that to his intimidating presence and he was nearly unstoppable.

"Speed didn't do anything wrong…it didn't even involve the gang," Slingshot got out.

"You ordered an inferior to do a job for you…an inferior that was mine to command. So yes, I think this does have to do with the gang," Spot explained calmly even while his arm was slowly cutting off his second-in-command's air passage. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Slingshot just mumbled, being unable to coherently talk at the present moment.

"What?" Spot asked angrily, easing up on his captive a bit.

"I said, 'I had him go drop off some money for your birthday present'."

"How the hell did you know about my birthday," Spot asked, shoving him back against the wall.

"School records are way too easy to break into," Slingshot provided, still looking a little worried.

"Why the fuck are you getting me a present?" Spot asked as he took on a more indifferent tone once again and released the other boy.

"I noticed you never mentioned your birthday last year so-"

"It didn't occur to you there might have been a reason?"

Slingshot just shrugged and looked at the floor, knowing he couldn't ask his boss what the reason was and not willing to apologize for going out of his way to get him a present.

"It better be a fucking good present," Spot demanded with a grumble before rolling his eyes and walking away to get back to other matters…mainly his homework, but he sure as hell wouldn't admit that to anyone.

* * *

"You brought me to Masson's party?" David asked with disbelief as he remained in the passenger seat, his eyes pleading that this was just some demented joke on Specs' part.

"What's the big deal, Mouth? They probably won't even notice us," Specs tried to persuade.

"My sister will! And I don't think it'd be something she would be very happy about!" David shouted.

"David, come on, calm down," Specs said in a soothing voice, "We'll go in and if you feel like anyone's going to start any kind of trouble we'll leave…right away."

"I really have to do homework anyway," David replied, trying to excuse himself.

"It's Friday night, Dave," Specs burst out, "This is one of the few days that homework cannot be used as an excuse to let you weasel out of something."

"Just…I mean…did we really have to come _here_ of all places?" David asked with a pitiful look on his face. "Going out I could stand but this…with Sarah here? I just don't think I can do it."

"David, I swear, first sign of any kind of trouble and we'll bolt from here so fast your ears will pop, okay?"

David struggled for a full six minutes, going through all of his nervous quirks. First a worried expression froze unto his face. Then he started biting his bottom lip. Next he began bouncing his leg up and down. During the last stage he just shifted his gaze all around him, as if searching for a fast exit. It was pretty damn funny when you saw him doing them all at once.

"I guess I can stay for a couple of hours," David gave in.

"Seriously? Ah David, you're awesome…honestly," Specs told him happily, quickly grabbing his friend's hands and jerking him up from the car seat.

Before David knew it he had been dragged across the lawn and into the party.

Absolutely fabulous.

* * *

Swifty kicked a rock as he walked. He'd lied to Jack; he didn't have anything to do. He was just feeling smothered and shallow and he felt like he needed to get away from all of that for a while.

But was it his group of friends making him feel this way, or was it all just in his head?

"Fuck," Swifty voiced after a grunt from being knocked to the ground by another person.

"Damn, watch where you're going," the other person said as he picked himself up.

"You're the one that ran into _me_. Don't blame me for your clumsiness," Swifty replied, jumping up from the ground as well.

"Swifty?"

"Dutchy? What the fuck man?" Swifty voiced with disbelief in his voice.

"I thought you'd be at Masson's party."

"I thought _you'd_ be lighting up."

"Itey's parents were coming home soon. And for the record, we don't smoke pot as much as people seem to think we do."

"Masson's a douche and I didn't feel like humoring him."

"I thought the party was for you though…for making the winning point or something."

"I'm in _track_ Dutch, not basketball."

"Oh…right."

"I was just an excuse for everyone to party and for Masson to show off his house again; I really doubt they'll miss me."

"So I take it you don't have the best of friends…as if that's a surprise."

"Jack's still…well, you know, Jack…so it's not like I'm totally alone. What about you? Are your friends like…nice and stuff?"

"I mostly just hang out with Itey, Skitts, and Bum…the other druggies usually leave us alone. I guess they're more acquaintances than friends."

"Really? I mean…when we used to hang out you didn't talk to those three very much. I assumed that you and Specs-"

"I don't talk to him anymore."

"Did…did something happen between you?"

"The same thing that happened between us I guess," Dutchy answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Swifty shifted his feet as the awkwardness kept growing. "Yeah."

After that a long silence came, with both boys avoiding each other's eyes.

"I should, you know…go," Dutchy excused himself. "I promised my mom I'd be home soon."

"Right, yeah, of course," Swifty replied, glad for receiving a reason to abandon all the guilt that had welled up in his stomach from not keeping in touch with all his old friends.

"Hey, uh…" Swifty started as Dutchy started walking away. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we were all still friends?"

"Yeah," Dutchy answered, not turning back to look at him, "But it's stupid to dwell on it. What used to be is over, you know?"

Swifty nodded to Dutchy's retreating form.

* * *

David was really not experiencing anything that could be labeled a good time. He had been insulted, shoved, pushed, and had beer spilled on him all in the time span of twenty minutes. And he couldn't find Specs anywhere so he could persuade his friend to let him just _leave_.

David kept his head down, hoping that no one _else_ noticed that he was that nerd from school who was always hanging out in the library.

"Sorry!" David said hurriedly when he knocked into someone, his head still facing the floor.

"Watch where you're- …David?"

"Jack!" David replied when he finally took his eyes off the floor.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Jack asked with disbelief.

"I got dragged here by Specs."

"Specs? Oh, yeah, you hang out with him now, right? That's kind of weird."

"Yep, me and Specs," David answered, busy trying not to feel awkward around his ex-friend.

"Davey…I-"

"Kelly! Let's go!" shouted a voice from across the room.

"You what?" David asked curiously.

"I…gotta go," Jack answered, slipping the smile back onto his face and walking away.

"Hey man, I've been looking all over for you," Specs said as he came up from behind his friend.

"Specs, thank god. Can we go?" David asked, turning to the other boy with a pleading look in his eye.

"Come on Dave, it's not that bad, is it?"

David shot him a look of disbelief. "I can't believe you thought that I'd actually enjoy myself here."

"Alright, alright, I won't go back on my word. You wanna leave? We'll leave," Specs said reluctantly. "Thanks for trying I guess," he shrugged as he grabbed David's arm and started heading towards the door.

"I'm just not cut out for all this high school stuff."

"You are such an old man," Specs laughed, letting go of the fact that he had actually been having a pretty good time and really didn't want to leave.


	4. Betting On Spot's Birthday

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**IV  
Betting on Spot's Birthday**

He didn't always bet; he didn't always have the money to be able to do so. It didn't matter, as long as he could be here and watch the race and cheer for the horse that he thought would win. Though admittedly, when he did scrape together enough money to bet it was usually ten times more exhilarating.

It was actually pretty stupid, because this was Brooklyn and in Brooklyn everything was fixed. If you were friends with the right people you knew for a fact who was going to win, who was going to come in second place, third place, and so on.

But Race didn't want that. He didn't come here for the money; he came here for the excitement and anticipation that came with guessing. So whenever he did have money (like he did today, for instance) he would survey the horses and choose which one he thought would win, then he'd hope that he was correct in picking the one that wasn't paid to drop behind.

"Twenty-five dollars on Blue Colt," Race announced to the man behind the counter, sliding him the minimum betting amount with a confident smile.

He slid a cigarette into his mouth as he got his receipt and he was back at his usually seat before he even lit up.

* * *

"What's Itey doing?" Skitts asked with boredom bursting out of his voice.

"His parents are home today," Bumlets reminded his friend before taking a hit off his cigarette and looking out into his front yard from where they sat on his porch.

Itey's parents being at home meant that Itey wasn't going anywhere, at least not without the threat of a mess of new bruises hanging over his head…and obviously he wasn't much fun when he had any kind of threat nagging at the back of his mind.

"God damn it, I'm so bored I can hardly move," Skitts complained.

"What about Dutchy?" Bumlets asked, still staring out into his front yard for lack of anything better to look at.

"Date," Skitts forced out the answer.

"Date? With who?" Bumlets asked, finally turning to Skittery and becoming interested.

"Don't get too excited; it's some chick his parents forced on him. She's probably fat and ugly and-"

"…And he won't be scoring…I got it," Bumlets finished for his friend, suddenly becoming very bored and very disinterested again.

"You wanna try hanging out with Leon and everybody?" Skittery asked, talking about the other potheads the school thought they were best friends with.

"Weren't they supposed to be trying coke this weekend? No thanks man, that shit's way too addictive."

"…And expensive as fuck," Skittery added, agreeing whole-hearted with his friend. Smoking pot was one thing; snorting coke was a whole other level of druggie that he didn't really want to experience…at least not yet. He might someday, just to prove that he wasn't a prude, but certainly not today.

"Let's just go smoke man," Bumlets suggested, dragging himself up from where he was lying horizontal on a small bench.

"Yeah, whatever," Skitts agreed, not thinking of anything better to do as he rose from where he was lying down on the concrete that was the porch.

"Damn man, we've got to find something more productive to do with our time," Bumlets commented as he put his cigarette out on the side of the house and walked inside to get the pot, assuming Skitts would follow him.

"Yeah, but you seem to be so against coke," Skittery joked as he grabbed the door behind Bumlets and went inside himself.

* * *

Racetrack sat unmoving in his seat as he glared at his horse; it was coming in next-to-last. God damn it! That was a good horse! It could have easily won if Brooklyn weren't filled with so many cheaters and money-grubbers. Unfortunately this was the only racetrack for quite a few miles and this was certainly the only one that Racetrack could go to that would leave his parents still thinking that he was innocent of the gambling world.

And really, if the truth were told, Race would have much rather _tried_ to win than to just sit there with money in his pocket. Yeah, he _was_ a gambling addict, what of it?

Feeling a little less happy than before (but still a lot happier than he did during all the other days of the week) he walked out of the building and back into the streets.

He hadn't taken the car because technically he was supposed to be grounded, and taking it would have been a huge tip off to his parents that he wasn't actually in his room sleeping.

But walking home in the sunshine wasn't a horrible thing, especially since he was walking home from the racetrack. True, it would have been better if he would have been walking home a winner, but still, losing aside it had been a glorious race. Racetrack was pretty sure that someone hadn't paid close enough attention when they were told what place they were supposed to finish in, because the horses drastically kept changing their places in line.

Race smiled, that didn't happen too often, but when it did the excitement and anxiousness of the crowd was almost _too_ much of a wonderful feeling. God, what Race wouldn't give to build an honest racetrack somewhere in Manhattan and be able to run it.

Without anything to do at home but stare at the wall Race decided that spending another hour in Brooklyn wouldn't be a particularly bad idea. Plus, he wanted to see if there were any more rumors about Brooklyn's leader. Obviously he had never met him, but he did sound pretty terrifying and Race wanted to know if he was really dead or not. _Plus_, the back of his mind added, _Sean might want to know about the new rumors_.

_He's not gay_, he reminded himself angrily as he squashed the other voice. He was falling for a straight person; god, that was a little pathetic. Maybe he needed to get laid more than he thought.

"He never left; I told you they were stupid rumors," Race heard from the conversation going on ahead of him.

"He ordered the CIA to clone him, and now there're _two_ Spots; one's with the government and the clone's ordering around Brooklyn," argued another voice.

Racetrack smiled; rumors about the Brooklyn gang leader were getting easier to stumble upon by the day.

"They're all just rumors, man; stupid gossip that people make up just because they're bored. Nothing happened to Spot and nothing _will_ happen to Spot; he's way too dedicated to Brooklyn to go anywhere. Hell, I'm pretty sure he'd raise himself from the dead just so he could continue running the place."

"Then what happened to him after he kicked in that guy's knee cap, huh? He hasn't been at school since, and if he was just suspended or expelled we'd see him on the streets more often. But no, we've barely even heard about what he's doing; it's like he's not here half the time."

"Yeah? And that's happened thousands of times before. Get your head outta your ass and start thinking realistically. You think that if Spot were gone all the people right under him wouldn't be putting up a fuss about who's next to command? The gang would be restless without Spot. I'm pretty sure at this point if Spot just disappeared the gang would be in total disrepair within days."

"Nah man, that's not so. Some other guy would come along and scoop that gang right up. It's powerful, it's feared…everybody wants it."

"Exactly. And you think that all those people in that gang will swear allegiance to someone else after they've served under Spot? Nobody seems to realize all the work Spot puts into maintaining everything. He puts his whole life into it; no one else is going to be able to do that."

"That's true, I guess running the Brooklyn gang _is_ harder than running any other gang…what with all the mutinies that seem to occur weekly."

"Yeah, yeah, and Spot's the only person who can snuff them out before anything really happens. I don't know how he does it, but the man's a genius about running things."

"Hey, did you hear that rumor about how Spot's actually a girl?"

"Oh, not that bullshit again."

"C'mon man, no one sees him face-to-face much, and people do say he's pretty…and short…and has a womanly type figure."

"Yeah? Well, then it must be true…except for the fact that any woman in the Brooklyn gang would be raped and killed before she could say 'shit, I think I made a mistake'. It's happened before man, don't deny hard evidence."

"Okay, okay, but you can't deny that he's not pretty. I mean, I can't believe he hasn't gotten raped before, you know? He must've…at one point…when he was an underling or something."

"That's real sick man, seriously."

* * *

Specs sat on Mark's living room floor, berating himself for ever agreeing to go to a study party on a Saturday afternoon. What had he been thinking, anyway? These people made _David_ look lazy, for god's sake.

"Hey, did anyone get the square root of thirty-nine cubed for question number twenty-three?" someone in the group asked (Specs was trying hard not to pay any attention at this point).

"I got the square root of thirty-_eight_ cubed," someone else answered.

"Yeah, that's what I got," another spoke up.

"Me too," David said. "Specs? What did you get?"

"Oh right, I got…Fuck, I am not this much of a loser," Specs replied, closing both his notebook and math book.

"Specs!" David scolded, "We aren't losers. We're challenging ourselves, we're preparing for the future, we're-"

"…Losers," Specs finished. "It's okay, Dave, I understand, and I won't treat you any differently because of it…well, I will, but I've always known you were a loser, so I won't treat you any different from how I normally treat you."

"Specs!"

"It's okay, David, we've been called losers so much that it's not like we care any more," Mark said, playing defense. He turned to Specs. "You can just leave, if you want, or go watch television up in my room, or raid my fridge or something; you don't have to study with us if you don't want to."

"Leaving's good, let's go with that," Specs decided, getting up from the couch and walking towards the door. "I'll see you guys at school."

"I'm so sorry about him," David apologized as soon as the front door opened and closed, signaling Specs' exit.

"Don't worry, Dave," Stephen interrupted, "He's our friend too, after all."

"Though I have to admit I'm not sure exactly _why_ he's our friend," Terrance spoke up.

"Terrance! You're just as bad as he is, don't act like you aren't," Mark reprimanded.

"Hey, it's not like I said he _wasn't_ my friend," Terrance shrugged, "And it's not like I blame him for that outburst; studying is pretty lame."

"You can leave too, you know," Mark reminded him, "You're the one who wanted to come."

"Yeah, because Specs was going to be here; he makes things interesting. Now he's gone so I'm off too," Terrance grumbled.

After the door slammed shut behind Terrance Stephen asked the question that was on everyone else's minds. "Why do we have such assholes for friends?"

* * *

"I can't believe those fuckers lied to me!" Slingshot exclaimed. "_'Blue Colt's going to win, we've made sure of it'_," he imitated in a voice that was clearly distorted to make the speaker sound retarded. "Fuck if I'm ever going to listen to those fucking fucktards again."

"That's very eloquent, Sling," Spot commented.

"Haven't you learned that those guys plan to fuck everyone over? If you aren't in their circle or if you don't hand over some kind of bribe, they aren't going to give you accurate information. Isn't this, like, the fifteenth time they've screwed you over? When are you going to learn?" the third in command, Hunter, voiced.

"Believe me when I say, 'I am never listening to those mother-fucking fucks again'," Slingshot growled out.

"You say that every time," Spot reminded him.

"Fuck you."

"Nice Sling, it's always a good idea to cuss out the higher ups," Hunter said when he noticed Spot's narrowed eyes.

"Oh," Slingshot replied, just now realizing what he said, "Sorry boss."

"So," Hunter started, planning on switching to a more light-hearted subject matter, "I heard your birthday's tomorrow. How old will you be? Seventeen?"

Spot shot a look of pure death at Slingshot, but remained quiet.

"Sorry boss," Slingshot apologized again, "It just sort of slipped."

"So what do you want as a present?" Hunter continued, not registering that his boss didn't want to talk about it.

"Sean?" a voice saved Spot from answering.

Spot turned and saw the boy that sat next to him in his first period class. "…Anthony?" he asked after racking his brain for a name.

"Call me Racetrack," Race ordered with a smile on his face.

"Racetrack?" Slingshot asked, sounding as if he thought having a nickname was odd.

"Yeah, cause I go to the racetrack a lot. I actually just got back from losing all my money on Blue Colt," Race shrugged.

"Yeah? Me too man!" Slingshot burst out happily, enjoying the fact that someone else had been cheated as well.

"Don't you two have somewhere you need to be?" Spot asked with narrowed eyes, wanting his closest associates to leave so he could make sure his cover wasn't blown.

"But I need to know what-" Hunter began before he was cut off.

"And fuck off with all that birthday shit. I don't want anything," Spot answered with irritation.

"Ah, come on, you don't mean that," Hunter stupidly pressed.

"Trust me, he does," Slingshot said after Spot shot them both a glare. "C'mon man, let's go get some food," he suggested, grabbing Hunter's shoulder and dragging him away.

"So what are you doing in Brooklyn?" Race asked, feeling a little awkward because he just realized he didn't really have anything to say.

Spot shrugged, not even trying to keep the conversation going.

Fortunately another member of Spot's gang interrupted the complete awkwardness.

"Boss!" Speed called out, racing up to Spot and then stopping to catch his breath.

"Chauffeur," Spot shrugged to Race's confused expression, explaining why Speed was calling him 'boss' with the same excuse as before.

"We need to go. Now," Speed forced out, not paying any attention to the other boy beside Spot that was giving him weird looks.

Spot narrowed his eyes and clenched the fist that held his cane a little tighter, immediately knowing that a fight involving him had broken out. Well, at least he wasn't at school; he could get to it with ease. "Lead the way," Spot commanded, racing off after Speed and leaving Racetrack behind without a second glance.

Race (who was probably too curious for his own good) waited just milliseconds before racing off after the two men, taking care to remain hidden from them as he followed stealthily behind.

* * *

"You're losing your touch," Jack commented has he took a few moments to catch his breath. "Fourteen-two."

"God Jack, I told you, 'I'm not cut out for basketball,' I've got no depth perception," Swifty complained.

"Yeah well, too bad; it's my turn to pick the sport we play and I chose basketball, so deal with it," Jack argued jokingly.

"I suppose it's fair," Swifty admitted, tossing the basketball from one hand into the other as he waited for the game to resume, "I mean, I did kick your ass _so_ bad at the long jump last week."

"Dude, you pick the weirdest sports to compete with me in; I've never played half of them, therefore, it's unfair to expect me to do well," Jack complained.

"Stop whining, Jackey," Swifty commanded, dropping the ball he was throwing between his two hands to the ground and dribbling towards the hoop at the other side of the court with what seemed like super sonic speed. Within seconds he made a slam-dunk and upped the score to fourteen-four.

"That's cheating!" Jack accused, screaming at the indignity of it.

"You should have kept on your guard," Swifty pointed out, carelessly throwing the ball to Jack with one hand. "Let's go; your ball."

"Man, I'm going to wipe the floor with you, you little bitch," Jack claimed, catching the ball and preparing kick his friend's ass.

* * *

Skitts giggled, letting go of everything in favor of focusing on the dense cloud that covered his brain.

"Dude, I'm totally feeling it," Bumlets claimed in a detached voice with his eyes half-lidded as he took his last hit.

Skittery just giggled again, nodding his head up and down in agreement.

"Dude," Bumlets said, acting as if he just had a great revelation, "You know what would be excellent right now? Pie."

"Hell yeah," Skittery agreed, giggling through his words.

"Dude, I just got a better idea," Bumlets said, changing his mind and acting as if _this_ was the greatest plan on earth. "Let's go to the pet store and look at the fish tanks."

"Hell yeah!" Skittery agreed again with wide eyes before he went back to his giggling.

* * *

Spot breathed a sigh of relief at the anticlimactic fight. When he came on the scene it was pretty bad, but it seemed as if the rumors surrounding his fighting ability were growing, because after he had stepped onto the scene the rebels seemed to run off in all directions.

Of course, Spot had learned to be suspicious and unforgiving, so he ordered his men to search and capture those that had been trying to dethrone him. This might have been the beginning of something bigger, or it might have just been stupid people with delusions of running a gang. Either way, Spot wasn't about to just let them get away.

A good amount of meters away from him Race stood, quietly listening to the conversations around him and putting two and two together.

"I told you if we just got Spot the fighting would stop. Those bitches practically wet themselves."

"The boss is good, no doubt about it."

"And Speed sure got to him fast. I mean, Jesus man, not only can Speed fly in a car, he could be like a track star or something if he wanted."

"Not that he would ever do that; his days are completely devoted to the boss."

"Yeah, Spot's got this like…leader aura or something, man, whatever it is no sane person could even _think_ about being a replacement for him."

"This gang hangs on Spot's shoulder's, no one else's, that's for sure."

"I just wish I could have seen him fight."

Of course, the conversations going on around him weren't quite enough. Sure Sean had come right before the fighting stopped, but so could have the _real_ boss. There were more concrete signs than that. Not only were people in the conversations looking over to Sean as if he was some god, but also the boy had an undeniable air about him; it broke no argument that he was the one running the show.

Needless to say Racetrack was a little frozen at what this revelation meant. Not only was the Brooklyn leader going to school in Manhattan (a fact that definitely needed to be looked into), but he had first period with him, he had talked to him, and had even gone up to him in the streets of Brooklyn.

It also answered quite a few rumors.

* * *

"So what'd you do Friday night?" Jack asked, twirling the basketball on his finger. He was still holding the smug smirk that had jumped onto his face when he beat Swifty twenty-one to four.

"I ran errands for my mom," Swifty lied. "Then afterwards I just walked around a bit; it was late and I didn't really feel like being there with people _already_ overly drunk while I was completely sober."

"Yeah, but we could have changed that real fast," Jack offered, "So definitely come next time, even if you _are_ going to be way late."

"Did Masson even realize I wasn't there?" Swifty asked, knowing that if the answer were 'yes' it would just mean that Jack was lying.

"I actually didn't see him much. I'm pretty sure he was with Brittany most of the time," Jack shrugged.

"Ah yes, head cheerleader; I should have seen that stereotype coming. I bet they were locked in a room snorting coke off each other's stomach's and fucking like bunnies," Swifty replied crudely.

"Masson doesn't do coke," Jack said as if the idea was crazy.

"_All _super rich and popular kids do coke, it's practically a fact," Swifty shrugged, stealing the ball from Jack and trying to spin it on his own finger.

"That's crap man. What about you and me? We're popular and look…we've never done coke," Jack pointed out.

"Yeah, okay, throw logic at me, but Brittany actually _does_ do coke. She's offered it to me on more than one occasion, and you know she could talk Masson into doing practically anything," Swifty argued.

"Now that's a little closer to the truth," Jack answered, stealing the ball back from Swifty and dribbling to the closest basket to make a shot. "I should totally try out for the basketball team," he claimed as the ball gracefully fell into the hoop without even touching the rim.

"Right man, good luck with that," Swifty replied, grabbing the ball up and dribbling to the hoop on the opposite side of the court. He threw it into the hoop, but it hit the rim and came back at him.

"Are you looking for a rematch, is that it, you little bitch?" Jack asked as he caught the ball and dunked it in. "You know I'll just kick your ass again, right?"

* * *

"What am I doing here?" Skitts mumbled as soon as he woke up and noticed that he wasn't in his familiar room.

"I saw you in the pet shop (acting like a total nutcase, might I add) and brought you back home," Dutchy answered with some amusement. "You better be thankful my parents had to leave last night and won't get back until sometime during the week. I'm pretty sure that if they had seen me bringing you two home they'd think it was because we were planning a three-way."

Skittery rose from where he was lying on Dutchy's bed with an affronted look on his face, "Like I could ever do something like that without Itey."

Bumlets snorted, "Like I could ever do something like that with the two of you." He was sitting on the couch that was shoved off to the side, a cup of coffee balancing on his knee. He took a sip of it before continuing, "You guys aren't that attractive."

"Excuse me?" Dutchy exclaimed, looking horrified at the insult, "I am the very epitome of attractiveness."

"I'm surprised you even know how to _pronounce_ 'epitome'," Bumlets confessed.

"Are you implying that I'm stupid now?" Dutchy asked with disbelief. "A man can only take so much."

"Jesus, Dutchy, give it a rest," Skittery commanded, falling back down on the bed, "God, sometimes I think you actually _do_ have a crush on Bumlets."

"Oh, fuck you, that's the last time I ever drag your sorry asses away from the fish tanks at the pet store."

"Good; the fishes are a lot better to look at than you," Skittery insulted. "Back me up here, Bum."

"Fish are awesome to look at when you're high, but without drugs I'd much rather look at Dutch," Bumlets confessed. "What time is it?" he asked quickly before anyone could say anymore on the subject.

Dutchy shot Skittery a smug grin before answering, "It's a bit after ten o'clock, so you're getting up pretty early given the fact that you smoked yourselves stupid last night."

"Aw, smoking yourself stupid," Skitts sighed, "Now that's the way to spend an evening."

"It certainly wasn't boring," Bumlets agreed before taking another sip of coffee.

"I can't believe that while you two were off staring at fish I was out on a date with a girl who kept throwing herself at me," Dutchy grumbled.

"It really is too bad," Bumlets replied, "A lot of desperate guys would have died to go out with a slut, but you just don't appreciate it at all."

"Yeah, I'm sure next time you're forced to go on a date Bumlets would trade places with you," Skittery offered,

"Was that a clever and tactful way of calling me desperate?" Bumlets asked with disbelief in his voice. "I'm impressed; you're usually just oozing crude bluntness."

"Eh," Skittery shrugged, "I just feel like I should step up my game a bit, you know? I don't want my insults to become too repetitive and predictable."

* * *

Sean woke up and received approximately forty-five seconds to think it was just an average morning. Regrettable it was interrupted when Hunter burst into his room without knocking and happily wished his boss a happy birthday.

"Didn't I tell you to give all the birthday shit a rest, you fucktard?" Spot grumbled while glaring at his third in command. "I hope you didn't think I was just fucking around when I told you that."

"C'mon boss, everyone deserves to have a day just to celebrate themselves for being themselves," Hunter lectured happily.

"God damn it, did you lose your fucking manhood in the poker game last night? Stop being such a pussy. You want to celebrate me? Do it on the day I became gang leader. Hell, do it on any other day and I won't care. Don't pick a day I had absolutely no control over," Spot ranted.

"I had no idea you felt like that boss," Hunter replied with sympathy. "It's just normal that people celebrate their existence on the day they came to exist," he told him.

"Then wouldn't it make more sense to celebrate on the day of conception?" Spot asked tiredly. "Never mind," he said quickly afterwards when it became apparent that Hunter was going to reply. "Just get the fuck out; I'm still sleeping."

"You're such a party-pooper," Hunter complained, not looking as if he planned on following orders anytime soon.

"Get out, Hunt," Spot ordered. "I'm not in the mood for this today and I'm fully prepared to kill you if I feel like I have to."

"Okay, no party," Hunter readily agreed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Jeez, you didn't have to threaten to kill me, you know. You could have just told me-"

"Get the hell out, Hunt," Spot ordered again.

"Alright, Mr. McCranky Pants," Hunter grumbled as he headed to the door, "I'm leaving, but I'm not giving you my birthday surprise."

* * *

"Jack, man, wake up. You gotta go before my mom leaves for work," Itey commanded, squatting down outside of his car and trying his best to rouse the other boy out of sleep.

"What's the big deal? I'm not even in the house," Jack grumbled tiredly, not moving from his horizontal position in the back seat.

"Yeah, but my ma's car broke down, so she's gotta use mine to get to work. And if she sees you just taking a nap in the back seat of my car she's going to be pissed and then there'll be hell to pay," Itey explained hurriedly. "I already waited longer than I should have to get you up; she'll be out any minute now."

"Jesus, the sun hasn't even completely risen yet," Jack complained as he forced himself into a sitting position. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"Just hide out in the backyard until she leaves. Then you can come in and change and shower and stuff," Itey bargained quickly. "Okay? Now, let's go. Get outta the car."

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Jack reluctantly agreed as the other boy pulled him from the car and dragged him around to the backyard.

"Just wait there until I come back out and get you," Itey directed, pointing to the back of the house that was covered by bushes.

"I really hope you're kidding," Jack warned before he was shoved down onto the small gap between the bushes and the wall of the house.

"I'll come get you soon," Itey promised, ignoring Jack's clear irritation at both him and the situation. "Just stay there and be quiet," he demanded before dashing back into the house through the side door.

Jack sat on the ground where he had been shoved and silently fumed. How the hell did he ever get reduced to hiding behind a bush on the property of a guy he had stopped being friends with years ago?

He suppressed the desire to scream at the entire situation when one of the bush's branches scraped him across the face and the scratch started to bleed. Sure it was just a small wound, but in some twisted way it reminded him of all the crap he had been forced to go through.

Here he was: an intelligent, well-behaved, athletic teenager, and what did he have? Nothing; no home, no family, no parents, no one to confide in… The only thing he _did_ have was a reputation at school that he couldn't even begin to live up to and couldn't possibly bring himself to break.

He had gradually fallen into a trap that was cleverly made from sheer bad luck and complete obliviousness.

"Jack," Itey said from the other side of the bushes, unknowingly interrupting the other man's thoughts, "You can come in now, my dearest darling mother just left."

"Thank god," Jack sighed quietly before crawling out from the bushes and painstakingly avoiding all the branches in order to not get scratched again.

"Sorry about that," Itey apologized to Jack while leading him indoors, "but you know how my parents are."

"Eh, it didn't take as long as I thought it would," Jack replied, shrugging it off.

Silence followed as the two boys carried themselves upstairs, neither knowing what subject to converse on, nor wanting to be the first on to speak.

"My dad should be coming straight home from work," Itey finally said, reluctantly breaking the silence, "so you can only be here for a few more hours." Silence followed him as he handed the other boy a towel for the shower.

"I won't take long," Jack ensured, hiding the sudden and illogical annoyance that flared up at being rushed. He grabbed the towel Itey was holding and stormed into the bathroom. Luckily he got a hold of his anger enough to _not_ slam the door shut. Jack wasn't so wrapped up in himself as to not realize that a pissed off teenager was something that Itey didn't need to deal with right now.

* * *

"Where the hell am I?" Specs muttered to himself. He felt very much like shit. His head throbbed, his body ached, and staying completely motionless where he was lying (wherever the fuck _that_ was) suddenly seemed like the best idea man had ever or _could_ ever come up with.

Or rather it _seemed_ like a good idea, but that was before he heard the definite male grunt from beside him.

"What the fuck?" Specs burst out, making a strange leap while still horizontal in his attempt to get away from whoever the other man was. Quite predictably it ended up with him tumbling from the bed he was previously on and falling onto the floor in a painful heap.

"What the hell's your problem?" Terrance muttered, clearly still half-asleep as he looked down at his friend from the side of the bed.

"What the hell happened last night? Why did I just wake up next to you?" Specs exclaimed, not being able to remember anything past leaving Mark's house and then running into Terrance just minutes after.

"Jesus man, calm down. We got drunk off our asses in my basement and managed to drag ourselves up here right before we passed out," Terrance answered. "What'd you think? We fucked or something? Hey man, you may be into that type of thing and that's cool, but I'm not."

"_You're_ calling _me_ gay?" Specs asked with some disbelief. "Not only were you the one that wasn't surprised to wake up next to another dude, you don't have a shirt on," he pointed out to the other boy.

"I don't mind waking up next to a guy because I know nothing would ever happen because _I'm not gay_. I didn't notice if you were wearing a shirt or not because I'm not interested in your ugly-ass, naked chest. And you should probably stop claiming to be straight when everybody already knows that you're going out with David," Terrance argued.

"I'm not going out with David!" Specs shouted, looking quite disgusted, "Who the fuck said that?"

"It's not like it's a secret," Terrance replied as he rolled his eyes, "I mean, everyone at school knows."

"What? Since when?"

"It's an old rumor," Terrance shrugged. Finally he decided to try and calm his friend down, "Look, everybody knows and nobody cares so it's not as if it's a big deal. You two might as well just come out of that closet you're both hiding in. You won't be treated any differently or anything like that."

"We're not in the closet! There is no closet for us. And even if there _were_ some sort of closet-like structure we would _not_ be in it together. We're straight! …As straight as…as something really, really straight," Specs rambled in his panic.

"Fine, keep it a secret. Whatever, man," Terrance replied before rolling over and trying to fall back asleep.

* * *

"Slingshot," Spot greeted with indifference as soon as he answered the knocking at his door and saw his second-in-command standing there.

"Hey boss, it's been a couple of hours since Hunter bugged you and I wanted to make sure you were okay. It's past noon," Slingshot replied nonchalantly.

"C'mon Slingshot, it's my _birthday_; I should be allowed to sleep in," Spot mocked, choosing to not tell Slingshot that he had actually been up for a little over an hour.

"Yeah, I know…it's your birthday…whoopee and all that, by the way. Anyway, that's kind of the point of me being up here," Slingshot explained, "I still haven't given you your present yet."

"Oh god," Spot responded in annoyance. He had completely forgotten that even though he had chased Hunter away he still had to deal with Slingshot. He really hated birthdays.

"You'll like it, I promise," Slingshot swore. "It involves breaking the law," he tried to tempt in a singsong voice.

"I break the law everyday," Spot explained as if he was talking to a three year old, "Any form of fun or excitement I get out of it has long been replaced by complete and utter indifference."

"Okay, but see, it also involves risking your life," Slingshot tried again.

"That's pretty much the same story, wouldn't you say? I mean god, I'm leader of a gang; the idea of risking my life and breaking the law isn't very new or exciting to me," Spot enlightened his second-in-command.

"Yeah, but this present will put the fun and excitement right back into disobeying the law and almost killing yourself," Slingshot tried to explain. "Just come down and you'll see it. I swear to any god there might be that you'll like it...probably even love it."

"Fine then," Spot reluctantly replied, not quite believing the other man, but realizing agreeing would be the fastest way to make him leave, "Where is it?"

"It's right outside," Slingshot directed happily before he walked out of Spot's room and started down the stairs, "Come on. I can't wait to see your face."

"This is as much as anyone's doing for my birthday," Spot warned him as he followed behind, "If anyone sings me 'Happy Birthday' I swear I really will kill someone."

"Yeah, I know. This is it, I promise. No cake, no songs, no other presents," Slingshot replied, "I kind of thought that I should keep it discreet and quiet after you tried to strangle me to death when you found out I used Speed to deliver the payment needed for your present."

* * *

"Blue Colt? Haven't you bet on him before?" Mush asked as he lied comfortably on Blink's king-sized bed.

"Uh…yeah, I think I bet on him a few weeks back," Racetrack racked his brain as he lied right beside his friend, their shoulders pressed together.

"You lost that time too, right?" Blink asked from the other side of Mush as he smiled happily.

"Shut up," Race commanded, not really all that mad. "He would win if he ever ran in a fair race."

"So your parents didn't realize you snuck out?" Mush asked with concern as he changed the subject.

"Nah, they were totally oblivious," Racetrack claimed smugly.

"And what about today? I thought you were grounded all weekend," Mush pressed on.

"Mom's going to this charity thing over in Pennsylvania and Dad got called out for a business meeting in New Jersey at the last minute. They both won't be home until at least six or seven o'clock this evening," Race explained. "So I'm a free man…for now, at least."

"Yeah Mush, stop worrying; Race's got it all under control," Blink ensured. "So did anything else happen in Brooklyn?"

"Besides losing all my money at the racetrack? Not really," Racetrack answered, deciding to not tell his friends about how Sean Conlon was actually the infamous gang leader of Brooklyn.

"Yeah, Blink and I didn't really do much either," Mush said.

"We aren't doing much _now_," Blink pointed out.

"Yeah, this is kind of stupid," Race agreed, jumping off the bed. "Let's go do something."

"Like what?" Blink asked, following Race's lead and getting off the bed as well.

"You want to just go get something to eat?" Mush asked his two friends.

"Sit around here doing nothing, or sit around a diner getting fat…" Race mused.

"Oh, the latter definitely," Blink chose. "Plus, there might be cute waiters we can hit on."

"Yeah, because I really want to try and flirt with a guy while I'm stuffing my face," Race replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

"It was just a suggestion," Blink shrugged.

* * *

"I'm gay," Specs announced as soon as someone picked up on the other end of the phone.

"David!" he heard Sarah shout, "One of your freaky friends are on the phone!"

"I got it!" David's muffled voice called out before Specs heard a clear "Hello?" from the phone.

"I'm gay," Specs repeated, not bothering to explain anything as he continued. "And it's not just me; you're gay too."

"No I'm not," David replied in an indifferent voice, more like he was stating a fact than defending himself.

"No, you are," Specs claimed, "and so am I and we're going out."

"No we aren't," David answered as confusion finally made its appearance known through his voice.

"I know!" Specs agreed. "But that's what the entire, stupid school thinks!"

"Oh," David responded, still a little confused. So the whole school thought he and Specs were going out. …Was that really _that_ upsetting? No one but Mark, Terrance, and Stephen bothered to talk to them anyway. What was the big deal?

"It _is_ a big deal Dave," Specs assured his friend as if reading his thoughts. "I'm not gay."

"Weren't you preaching to everyone about how gays should receive equal marriage rights just a few months ago?" David asked. "I thought-"

"You think _that's_ where people got the idea that I'm gay? Because I'm not; I was just picking up a cause!" Specs claimed.

"No! I was going to say 'I thought you didn't have a problem with gays'," David interrupted.

"I don't! And if I was gay I wouldn't have any problem with people knowing that, but I'm not gay so…so people are just spreading _lies_ about me!" Specs explained.

"I can't believe you have a problem with being gay," David said with disbelief.

"What? You're not even the least bit upset that people think _you're_ gay?"

"No. All the people who really believe we're going out aren't people we talk to anyway, so it's not like anything is going to change."

"Terrance thinks so too, though."

"He does? Why?"

"I don't know!" Specs shouted.

"Still, it doesn't matter. It's just a stupid rumor and it'll be disregarded as unimportant soon enough."

"But Terrance said it was an old rumor!"

"Oh, well then most people must have _already_ disregarded it," David claimed, "So it really _isn't_ a big deal."

"Yeah? Maybe you're right," Specs agreed, not quite believing his friend and happy that he had paid Sean to sit with them at lunch so that they wouldn't be sitting alone tomorrow.

"It's all blown over by now Specs; there's no use in worrying about it," David told him.

* * *

"Fuck," Spot muttered, turning the smile he couldn't suppress into a smirk.

"Does that mean you like it?" Slingshot asked, not bothering to turn his smile into anything other than what it was.

"Hell yeah," Spot breathed, walking over to his present and inspecting it.

It was a motorcycle. It was a fucking motorcycle. It was small and had all sorts of parts from different brands, but fuck, it was a motorcycle.

"Not only is it practically a machine of death, but every time you drive it you'll be breaking the law since you don't have a motorcycle license. Not to mention that if you choose to, you can break a mess of other laws as well. I didn't even bother buying you a helmet," Slingshot said proudly. "So? What do you think?"

Spot walked over to his second-in-command wordlessly before he kissed him hard on the cheek, maintaining his smirk the entire time.

"Well sweet," Slingshot replied, more than a little surprised at his boss's response.


	5. School Sucks and So Do You

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**V  
School Sucks And So Do You  
**

Spot raced through New York traffic on his motorcycle, smirking as he cut someone off and got flipped the bird. It would be worth celebrating his birthday every year if he kept getting presents like this.

The fact that he was traveling to school of all places did little to ruin his good mood because he was on a _fucking motorcycle_. Unfortunately the trip didn't seem to take long enough as the school building suddenly loomed ahead.

After he pulled into a parking spot he put the kick stand down and jumped off his bike. He walked towards the school with a smirk and saw the four people he had talked to at lunch standing along a wall smoking much like on Friday afternoon.

"Hey Sean!" Itey called out, "We were just talking about you!"

"No we weren't!" Dutchy declared as a blush sprang up along his face.

Sean's eyebrow rose at this, but he decided against saying anything.

"We're planning on cutting out at lunch and going down to eat at the closest diner. You want to come with us?" Bumlets invited casually as he took a hit off his cigarette.

"Previous engagement," Sean answered, thinking about how he had to sit with the annoying kid named David today. He quickly took out his own cigarette in the hopes of quelling the irritation that had sprung up at the thought.

"Where'd you get the motorcycle?" Skittery asked as he glanced at the bike that was only a few meters away. He had a look of intense longing on his face.

"Birthday present," Sean replied, shrugging again.

"Whoa, your parents must really love you," Skittery said, drooling slightly as he continued to look at the motorcycle, "Fuck, what I wouldn't give to ride it."

"What I wouldn't give to ride _you_," Itey answered, successfully taking Skittery's mind off the bike.

"Yeah?" Skitts grinned happily as he turned to look at the other boy.

"Hells yes," Itey ensured before they sprang together and walked as one to wherever Itey's car was parked.

"Uh…they do that sometimes…sorry, if you find it offensive or whatever," Dutchy muttered out to Sean, worried that the other boy was actually a homophobe.

Spot stayed quiet as he lit up his own cigarette and took a large hit.

"If it makes you feel any better I promise not to make out with any guys," Bumlets continued for Dutchy. He appeared to be trying to smooth things over until he kept on talking, "I can't say the same for Dutchy, though he doesn't really get as much dick as you would think."

"Whatever," Sean finally grunted out before taking another hit.

"Does it bother you?" Dutchy asked, terrified of what the answer might be.

"Does _what_ bother me?" Sean asked with pseudo irritation. He knew what the other man was talking about of course; he just enjoyed making people feel awkward and uncomfortable, and by the looks of things Dutchy was _very_ uncomfortable.

"D-does…do g-guys…I mean…wh-when guys…m-m-make…it…it's like…uh…" Dutchy tried to explain.

Spot shot him a look that clearly voiced that he thought Dutchy was an idiot before flicking his cigarette onto the ground and turning to go into the school.

A truly pitiful look appeared on Dutchy's face as he watched his crush walk away.

"Eloquent," Bumlets mock congratulated, being of no help what so ever.

"Fuck you," Dutchy growled out, feeling the frustration at the situation rising in his chest.

"Look," Bumlets replied, finally taking on a sympathetic air, "He never _looked_ disgusted…or even surprised for that matter. I'm sure he's fine with it."

Dutchy just sighed, replacing his frustration with self-pity as he took a hit off his cigarette.

* * *

Racetrack stumbled into his assigned seat at his Current Events class not even a second before the bell rang. Right away he noticed Sean sitting in the seat next to him, but he promptly ignored him, not quite sure how he should respond to the Brooklyn gang leader.

Spot rolled his eyes as he noticed the boy next to him (…Racetrack? Yes, that was his name) trying to discreetly look over at him. "What the hell's your problem?" he asked bluntly right before the teacher swept into the room.

Race looked at him with wide eyes for a millisecond before answering truthfully. "I followed you on Saturday; I…you know…_know_," he forced himself to explain quietly.

Spot narrowed his eyes at him before responding, "Come to the parking lot before second period starts."

"Why should I?" Racetrack answered with a fear that was well masked with defiance.

"Because if you don't," Sean growled out before a smirk slowly crawled onto his face, "Well…I'm the leader of Brooklyn; use your imagination as to what I'll do to you if you fail to show up."

Racetrack nodded his head in acceptance, knowing that the other boy would most likely follow through with whatever it was he had planned if he didn't show up to talk to him. But still (or rather given all that information) he didn't want to go and meet him where no one else would be. "I'm not planning on telling anyone, if that's what you're worried about," he tried.

Sean gave him a look that clearly stated his annoyance at Race for trying to continue talking to him when the conversation was clearly over. "I'm not worried about anything that you could try and do to me," he answered with irritation.

"Sean, please refrain from talking in this class unless called upon," the teacher lectured, breaking up the conversation Racetrack was trying to have with the other boy.

"Fuck off," Sean muttered, but luckily the teacher had already returned to teaching and didn't hear, so a confrontation that Spot would have most certainly and stupidly risen to never occurred.

* * *

"Where's Race?" Mush asked Blink with concern when he finished taking his way-too-easy test in his Expressing Opinions class and noticed Racetrack was no where to be found.

"I don't know. You think he's in the nurse's office or something?" Blink replied, not really being much help, but voicing the same concern.

"He certainly didn't seem sick while we were in the car getting here," Mush answered with worry.

"You want to sneak out and see if we can find him?" Blink asked, wanting to know where Race could have gone.

Mush looked around with a worried look on his face, not really wanting to break the schools rules and skip out on class, but at the same time anxious about his friend's whereabouts. "Yeah, let's go," he finally decided.

Sneaking out was an easy enough experience; the teacher didn't pay any attention as they casually just left. The problem arose when they realized they had no idea where to look.

"Let's see if his car's here," Mush finally suggested, walking towards the door, "If it isn't then we know he must have gone off the grounds and we can use one of the pay phones to call his cell."

Blink nodded his head in agreement before tagging along behind the other teen.

As soon as they exited the back door of the school they saw their friend talking to some kid next to a motorcycle.

"That's Sean," Blink pointed out since Mush hadn't seen him yet.

"_That's_ Sean?" Mush asked with disbelief, recognizing the boy from the pay phones last Friday. He took off towards them, suddenly feeling very protective of his friend.

"Hey," Blink whispered, pulling Mush back, "Just wait a second. Let's go in closer and see what they're talking about."

Mush nodded his head, not liking the idea of eavesdropping, but knowing that it was the second best option if he couldn't go up to the two of them and pull Racetrack as far away as he could.

"So are you the one that fixes the horse races?" Racetrack asked in a tone that clearly stated that he would give him a black eye if he did.

Spot snorted, "You think if I did Slingshot would've been cursing for losing all his money on Blue Colt?"

"Well, if the jockeys screwed you over…" Racetrack began to explain.

"Believe me, when I get fucked over I don't stand around like a pussy and cuss; I go right to the source and start bashing heads in," Sean explained.

Racetrack didn't doubt what he said for even a millisecond. "So who _does_ fix the races?"

"The old man who owns the racetrack and his…_associates_," Sean answered. He smirked, "Why? You want me to do something about it for you?"

"Well…I mean…can't you?" Race stuttered out.

"We've tried to get in on it, but what we'd have to do to gain his trust isn't something I'm willing to get myself into," Spot answered, "And while I could probably hold reign over it if I tried hard enough, it'd be a lot of work because _he's_ the one who owns it."

"What did he want you to do?" Racetrack asked with what could have either been curiosity or just an attempt at keeping a conversation going.

"Kill people that find out about what he's doing but don't contribute to the bribes given to the jockeys," Sean answered nonchalantly. "Killing's a messy business and I refuse to take orders from someone else," he explained, "It'd be just asking for trouble if the Brooklyn gang leader answered to some stupid old man whose only accomplishment in life was inheriting a racetrack."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Racetrack agreed as his head spun at the idea that there was no way Sean _hadn't_ killed at least _one_ person.

"Speaking of killing people," Spot started with a malicious glint in his eye, "What's it going to take to shut you up about me?"

Racetrack's expression didn't change thanks to his well-practiced poker face, but mentally he was going crazy. Was Sean actually threatening to kill him in order to make sure he never talked?

"Don't you dare!" Mush shouted out from across the parking lot before racing off towards his friend while dragging Blink behind him. "We know everything and if you do anything to Racetrack we'll tell the whole school," he threatened with both bravery and stupidity.

"Idiot," Blink muttered to Mush, but unfortunately loud enough for everyone to hear, "That's just going to make him kill _us_ too."

Spot smirked, outwardly proclaiming confidence and control while inside he was fuming. How the hell had he been stupid enough to get himself into this mess? "Look, even if you do tell the whole school, how many people are going to believe you? There are a thousand more rumors flying around about me that are a lot more exciting," Spot explained, "I'd just like to control any and all rumors as much as I can."

"We won't tell anyone else," Race promised calmly. "We're the only friends we have. We don't even talk to anyone else."

Spot thought for a few seconds before nodding his agreement, "Alright, fine, just don't tell anyone else and there won't be a problem." After that announcement he left, hoping to get to a pay phone in order to call Slingshot before third period started.

* * *

Sean slipped into his third period class (French IV) right before the bell rang.

The teacher glared at him disapprovingly before addressing the whole class, "We will be starting a project today. I will be pairing you into groups of two and together with your assigned partner you will be researching something about France. In one month's time you are to present your project. You each will receive a grade specific to you and a grade to be shared with your partner. Your two grades will be combined to then form your final grade. This will be worth one fourth of your quarter grade, so be sure to do a good job."

Spot stared off into space as the teacher continued to drown on, going over all the things you could or couldn't do for the project. The Brooklyn gang leader sighed; it wasn't enough that he had to take another language that he would never use (why couldn't the school have offered him Russian or Italian? Those might've just helped if he ever decided that he wanted to move up to more international crimes, but no, the school had to go and sign him up to take some pussy language), but now he was probably going to be paired off with some annoying fucktard.

Sean snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called.

"Sean and Kevin," the teacher announced, motioning to whomever Kevin was to get up and sit near his partner.

"Name's Swifty," a boy greeted happily as he plopped down in the no-longer-empty seat next to Sean.

Sean just grunted quietly in acknowledgement.

"So what do you want to do the project on?" Swifty asked, his smile faltering a little bit.

Sean grunted again, this time putting a little more annoyance behind it.

"What the hell's your problem?" Swifty asked, tired of pretending to be nice in order to get along. "Look, I know this probably isn't the best quarter project we could be doing, but I need this grade so it'd be great if you could at the very least cooperate."

"How's this for cooperation: 'I don't do any of the project. You want a good grade then do it yourself because I don't give a fuck'?" Spot growled in a low and quiet voice.

"So what?" Swifty asked in irritation, "You're just going to be a bastard by not helping at all? I can't believe you would do that."

Spot rolled his eyes instead of honoring the other boy with a response. What the hell made this kid think he could expect anything of him anyway? He didn't even know him.

* * *

"So now I'm just stuck with him now! And I told the teacher but she just said we'd have to get along or our partner grade would be an F, which means that even if I did get an A for my specific grade the partner grade would bring it down to a C. You know my dad won't accept C's from me and I'm struggling in the class as it is!" Swifty ranted to his best friend about what happened in his previous class.

Jack immediately tried to start to help. "Maybe if the jocks threatened him? Or you struck a deal with him?"

"Jack! That's only half the problem. When I thought we could pick our own partners I was focused on getting Mark (because he's super smart) because I can't do this project without someone who knows what they're doing. And here I'm partnered with this new kid now. I mean, I have no idea how good he is at the language and since he just transferred in he probably doesn't even know what's going on as it is!" Swifty complained.

"Wait, the new kid is your partner? Conlon?" Jack asked with disbelief. "God, I hate that guy."

"Really? What'd he do to you?" Swifty asked, feeling his curiosity rising. Jack didn't hate anyone, not really anyway. He may have thought he was above certain people or entitled to make fun of the geekier kids in school, but his relationship with them contained no hatred (on _Jack's_ part, at least).

"He made me swear off wrestling," Jack reluctantly explained.

"You love wrestling," Swifty pointed out before correcting himself, "Well…_used_ to love it, I guess." He leaned in and starting whispering in case Jack didn't want anyone else to hear. "How'd he convince you to do that?"

"He…made me see the more homoerotic points of it," Jack forced himself to answer, extremely thankful that Swifty had started to whisper.

Swifty snorted, resuming normal conversation, "What? You never saw the homoerotic-ness of it before? Dude, how'd you miss it? Used to that much gayness all at one time so you never noticed it before?"

Jack's heart plummeted at the fact that his best friend would not be defending the sport that he used to love to participate in so much. "I'm not the one wearing a pink shirt!" he hissed.

"I'm not the one who noticed I was wearing a pink shirt!" Swifty growled out to defend himself.

"Don't give me that bullshit! You knew exactly what you were wearing today!" Jack declared, his voice rising as both he and Swifty unknowingly gained more and more of the class's attention.

"And yet I'm still not the one who rolled on the floor fucking other guys," Swift pointed out just as loudly.

"I don't _do_ that anymore!" Jack shouted, jumping from his chair to glare down at his now-ex-friend.

"Right, but you would in a heartbeat if you hadn't realized how gay it is!" Swifty accused.

"It's a sport! Sports can't be gay!" Jack declared as if it were a rule.

"What? That's complete bullshit! In both baseball _and_ football you wear tight pants and people smack your ass! In swimming all the guys wear fucking _Speedos_! In basketball everyone wears short-shorts! In-"

"Boys!" the teacher exclaimed, having heard enough, "This is a current events class; a time to discuss _current events_. This is not the time to be debating about…about _homoerotic_ sports!"

"Sports aren't homoerotic!" Jack burst out at the same time as Swifty defended their debate with, "Jack turning gay _is_ a current event."

"I'm not gay!" Jack claimed, turning back to Swifty from where he was facing the teacher.

"Boys! Both of you go to the office immediately and explain this…this…situation!" the teacher cried, shooing them out of the room before quickly restarting class.

"I guess I kind of got a little carried away," Jack declared, coming as close to an apology as he ever would whilst he traveled to the principal's office with the other boy.

Swifty scoffed before grinning, "Dude, don't even think about it. It's completely cool, just stop acting like a chick."

Jack nodded his head in acceptance of the rule as he flashed a grin of his own and accompanied his friend to the office where punishment would no doubt await them.

* * *

Spot scanned the lunchroom reluctantly as the same thought spun around in his head. _Just sit with David for forty-five minutes and you'll have fifty more bucks in your pocket. It's easy, just don't punch anyone and everything will run smoothly._

It actually wasn't very hard finding the annoying guy and his friend, especially since said friend was bringing quite a bit of attention to himself by standing up and waving his arms over his head like a maniac.

Sean rolled his eyes as he walked over to the two. This was going to be a long-ass, mother-fucking lunch.

"Sean," Specs greeted happily as the other boy came over. He sat down in one of the cafeteria chairs and turned to the annoying kid. "Look Davey, it's the new kid."

Sean narrowed his eyes, not at all liking the fact that the annoying kid's friend had referred to him as 'the new kid', but deciding that saying anything would most likely result in a fistfight. Then of course if a fight were to occur chances were he wouldn't be getting the other half of the money. Going with the wisest choice that occurred to him he sat down, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the annoying kid and his friend.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" David asked, noticing that Sean didn't have any food with him. "I can loan you some money if you don't have any," he offered nicely.

Sean shot a glance at the annoying kid's friend, making sure he caught the gaze. "I should be okay on money for awhile," he replied confidently.

"Do you just not know what to buy?" David pressed, "I know all the food looks really gross, but if you know what to get it's not as bad as it first appears."

"I'm not hungry," Sean insisted, growing a bit annoyed. He didn't eat cafeteria food; it was one of the few rules he actually followed and obeyed. The plastic badly disguised as food didn't appeal to him, no matter how much someone tried to insist he wouldn't be nauseous after eating it.

"You should really eat," Specs suggested, catching the new kid's eye and silently threatening not to pay him. _You have to at least be nice, otherwise it's definitely not worth all that money_, he mentally explained to the other boy.

"I'm really not hungry," Sean repeated, this time glancing at the annoying kid's friend. He turned to the annoying kid. "Thanks though," he forced himself to say.

"Oh, it's really not a big deal," David replied, happy that the new kid seemed to be opening up to him (if only a little). "I'll be happy to help you with anything; you just have to ask."

Sean nodded his head in acceptance before looking at the clock. He cursed silently to himself; it had only been six minutes. How was he going to be able to sit there being nice for the remaining amount of lunch?

Fortunately from the other side of the room four boys were looking over at him and quietly planning his rescue.

"Let's just go over there and sit down," Bumlets finally suggested after many elaborate ideas had been voiced. "I'm sure David and Specs will walk away if they think people might talk about them hanging out with druggies."

"Yeah? And we go over there under what pretense?" Skittery asked, ready to knock down yet another idea.

"We use the very real excuse that he's our friend," Bumlets answered defiantly. "David saw him sitting with us on Friday, so it's not like it isn't believable."

"Alright," Itey agreed, knowing that if he accepted the plan then Skitts would as well. "Let's do it then."

Back at David's table Sean was truly contemplating shoving forks into his eardrums.

"So where did you to go to school before coming here?" David asked, continuing with asking him questions that he didn't have any right to know the answers to.

'Which one?" Sean snapped, avoiding the direct question as much as he could.

"The one you went to right before you transferred here," David answered with a little confusion in his voice, not at all registering the fact that Sean was growing more annoyed by the minute.

"Sean," Dutchy greeted happily, interrupting the conversation as he took a seat to the left of Spot.

"Yo man," Bumlets said in his usual monotonous voice, sitting next to Specs on the other side of the table.

Skittery remained silent as he, too, sat down, his seat being next to Dutchy.

"We're going to all hang out later tonight. You want to come with us?" Itey asked Sean as he sat across from Skitts and next to Bumlets.

Sean shrugged, "Yeah, maybe."

David looked around, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with sitting with his old friends. "I just remembered, I have this test sixth period I should be studying for." He looked towards Sean, "Do you know where the library is? I'll be in there if you need anything from me."

Sean nodded, giving both his answer to the question and the consent that David could leave the table and he wouldn't feel abandoned.

David was halfway across the cafeteria before Specs realized that sitting with druggies was something that he wanted to avoid. "Wait Davey!" He called out before turning to the others. "I should probably go help him," he explained before scurrying off.

Itey burst out laughing, "I told you people practically ran away from us."

"You weren't having a good time were you?" Bumlets asked when he saw the blank look on their new friend's face. "You can go meet them in the library if you want to. We thought you looked annoyed, but if you weren't…"

Sean in fact _did_ have a blank look on his face, but not because he was angry. Actually he was quite happy. The problem was that he wasn't used to being happy and therefore he didn't exactly know what to do with himself. His chest was swelling and he felt like he had to do something to make it go away.

"You okay?" Dutchy asked, looking over to his right at Sean when he noticed the blank look as well.

Finally deciding on what to do he leaned over and kissed Dutchy roughly on the cheek. He smirked as the swelling abated some.

Dutchy sat in disbelief for the rest of fifth period. Luckily his friends knew exactly why and Spot just didn't care, so no one asked him what his problem was.

"I thought you were cutting lunch," Sean remarked.

"We decided not to," Itey answered in a shrug.

"You should be happy we changed our plans, otherwise we couldn't have saved you byt scaring off the annoying nerds," Skittery put in.

* * *

David sat in his French class trying to listen attentively. Unfortunately (for some reason or another) he wasn't the biggest language expert around. Actually, French was his only academic class that wasn't an honors course.

Now, of course David wasn't doing _badly_ in French, he just didn't _get it_ like he got his other classes. Sure, he'd tried to receive the grades to be bumped up to Honors French IV (he'd even managed to do it once before), but he couldn't ever _maintain_ the grade.

He continued to try, however, and he spent many nights staying up studying the foreign language in the hopes that someday he'd be able to get it as easily as he got everything else.

David perked up and mentally shook himself out of his head when the teacher began to explain a new project. They were to partner with someone and do a project revolving around some aspect of French life. It sounded interesting enough; David just hoped that the partner the teacher chose for him would be as enthusiastic as he was.

"David Jacobs," the teacher announced when calling out partners, "You're paired with Jack Kelly."

David's eyes visibly widened. Jack Kelly? The Jack Kelly who was quarter back of the football team? The Jack Kelly who he used to be friends with just a few years ago? The Jack Kelly who always laughed when Masson pushed him in the halls?

_He'd rather take an F!_

From across the room Jack Kelly was having a similar mental fit.

David Jacobs? The David Jacobs who was president of the science club? The David Jacobs he used to be friends with just a few years ago? The David Jacobs who shot him dirty looks when Masson pushed him in the halls and Jack didn't do anything to stop him?

_He'd rather take an F!_

_But an F would mean no more sports for a while, _his brain pointed out not even a second later.

_But an F would mean no more academic clubs for a while, _David's brain pointed out only milliseconds after Jack.

_**God damn it **_both boys mentally yelled at the exact same time.

* * *

Spot walked into his seventh period art class fifty bucks richer. He had somehow managed to convince Specs that it was _them_ that walked away, not him. Therefore, it was their fault that they had passed up the chance to spend lunch with him, and he shouldn't have to give away fifty dollars because his 'friends' came over.

He sat down in his normal seat noticing that no one else seemed to be in the same place as yesterday. He quickly assumed that this teacher was laid back, letting students sit wherever they wanted whenever they wanted. After that thought passed he quickly hoped that a fucktard didn't sit next to him and hastily moved so that on his left was a wall, narrowing down the chances of sitting by a fucktard by half.

Blink ran into the classroom just in time for the bell to ring. Unfortunately the only empty seat was by Sean, Brooklyn's gang leader, and Race's most recent crush (even though Race would never admit it). "Hey," Blink greeted him shyly before explaining his presence, "All the other seats are full."

Sean looked around, right away noticing that this appeared true enough. He nodded his head in consent to the other boy's silent plea to sit down before turning back to the front of the class. At least Blink wasn't a _complete_ fucktard.

…

Twenty-five minutes into class and Blink was as bored as shit. They had to do a test over what they had learned so far, and because of that they weren't starting on another project today. The test was beyond easy and now he had absolutely nothing to do for the next third of an hour.

He turned to the boy next to him and decided to disregard any fear he had for the Brooklyn gang leader in favor of getting rid of his immense boredom. "So…what's up?"

Sean glanced over at him before turning back to the front of the room and flipping him off.

"Look, there's nothing to do and I'm really bored," Blink explained honestly. "When class gets out and I have someone else to talk to I'll go back to fearing you," he promised.

"Fine," Sean agreed, being bored as well, "What am I being forced to talk about?"

Blink shrugged, "I don't know…uh…how was your last school?"

"Tedious," Sean answered uncaringly.

Blink mentally sighed. It was just his luck that Sean wouldn't put any work into keeping up a conversation. He really should have seen it coming. "Okay…what kind of music do you like?"

"The good kind," Sean answered, looking at the other student as if he was stupid.

"Okay fine," Blink said in resignation. "What'll you talk about for more than five seconds? You pick what the topic should be about. What do you want to talk about? Television? Girls? …Guys?" he asked, voicing the last question with reluctance. But if he could find out if Sean was gay or not that would help Racetrack out a lot. Of course Race was already certain Sean was a hetero, but Blink was quite in tune with the saying 'appearances can be deceiving'.

Sean smirked, "Are you trying to ask me if I'm a fag or not?"

Blink mentally winced at the word 'fag', not liking its appearance into the conversation at all. Sean had smirked, so obviously he must not have minded being asked his orientation, but at the same time not many homosexuals would call themselves fags. Well, he was generalizing; really it should be rephrased as 'not many of the homosexuals that he knew called themselves fags'. In other words, Sean could be an exception. "Yeah, I guess so," he admitted after he jerked himself out of his long but quick train of thought.

"Does it matter?" Sean asked with his smirk still in place.

Okay, now he was being defensive. And that _could_ mean Sean was a gay that didn't want other people to know he was into boys. In his experience Blink saw stalling as a good sign that someone was gay, so he pressed on with a little bit more hope. "I was just curious. So, what's your orientation?"

"No one asks that question because they're just curious," Sean claimed, ignoring the other boy's repeated question. "And because I know I don't act like a stereotypical fag and no one really has any reason to think I _am_ most people would just assume I'm straight. But you didn't because you _want_ me to be gay, and you're just asking to make sure I'm straight and thus crushing the last little bit of hope you're holding onto."

"Why would I care if you're gay or straight?" Blink asked, noticing that Sean was a little to close to the truth and wanting to throw him off. Unfortunately, throwing people off wasn't one of his best talents.

Spot smirked a little harder; "You or one of your friends has a fag-crush on me. Judging from the look on your face I'm right."

"None of my friends have a crush on you, that's ridiculous," Blink declared; his heart sinking as he realized Sean quite obviously held all of the cards and had somehow stolen all the control while he hadn't been paying attention.

"And since you immediately defended your friends and not yourself it must be one of them," Sean continued. "And judging from how you're acting I'm right again."

"No!" Blink burst out, trying to rack his brain for something to prove that none of his friends had a crush on the gang leader.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you want to look at it) the bell rang and ended their conversation.

"Tell them I'm not interested," Sean demanded before grabbing the notebook he came in with and walking off to his next class.

* * *

Itey walked into his eighth period, psychology class. It was one of those fake classes where no one did anything remotely related to schoolwork. Which was, quite obviously, why Itey and all his friends took it in the first place.

"Over here babe!" Skitts shouted out to Itey.

Bumlets rolled his eyes from where he sat next to Skittery; it was quite obvious to anyone who knew them that the two only called each other pet names to gross other people out.

"I missed you so much during my American Studies class," Itey pouted, going over to his fuck buddy and straddling him so that they were face to face. "Seventh period just isn't the same without you."

Bumlets snorted when he noticed people were turning away after rolling their eyes. Everyone was so convinced that Itey and Skittery only acted like they liked each other to piss everyone off that they could be fucking one another in the halls and the most people would do would be to tell them to 'grow up'. It was quite comical just because the student body was so right and so wrong at the same time. Yes, they displayed their affection to piss everyone off, but it was also quite apparent they were in love.

"Would you two quit acting like fags so we can deal with my problem?" Dutchy asked with irritation in his voice but a smile on his face.

"What problem?" Itey asked, craning his neck around so that he could look at the other boy.

"Sean kissed me," Dutchy stated quietly so that none of the other students overheard (it was futile, seeing as how no one was listening to them or paying them any mind anymore; Itey and Skittery had taken care of that).

"Isn't that more of a cause for celebration than a problem?" Bumlets asked, "Maybe I can't see it because I'm not gay but I think he's pretty hot. Am I wrong?"

"Definitely not wrong," Dutchy answered with a smile on his face.

"And good for you for embracing your inner gay," Skitts mock congratulated Bumlets.

"But then what's the problem?" Bumlets asked while flipping Skitttery off.

"The kiss was amazing!" Dutchy gushed. "But now I'm even more confused. Is he gay or straight? He acts straight, but he had no problem kissing me. Then again, I'm sure plenty of straight guys have kissed other guys thinking they were straight when really they were gay, right?"

"Just try to start making out with him and see what happens," Skittery suggested.

"That won't work, stop trying to fuck me over," Dutchy commanded. "This is a serious problem."

"That's a serious solution," Itey argued, coming to Skittery's defense. "That's how _we_ got together, anyway."

"God, I knew coming to you guys for help was a bad idea," Dutchy growled.

"But we're the only friends you have," Itey began.

"…so you're stuck with us," Skittery finished.

* * *

"So you got paired up with Jack, big deal," Specs grumbled as he stood next to David's car.

"It is a big deal," David argued. "How am I supposed to act around him, uh? Am I supposed to fall into my geekdom and write the report myself? Am I supposed to remember that he was once my friend or are we just going to ignore that part of history? Is he going to be an ass even though Masson isn't going to be around? How am I supposed to deal with this?"

"Just…do it, I don't know. Look, all you have to do is follow his lead, all right? If he acts like Mr. Jock, the superstar, you act like Mr. Science, the geek. If he acts like Cowboy, you act like the Walking Mouth. It's a pretty simple strategy," Specs directed.

"I don't know Specs," David sighed, leanly against his car, "High school is so much harder than it should be."

"Just go with it, Davey," Specs commanded, "Riding the wind will give you a much smoother trip than if you try to go against it."

"I think you've been reading too many fortune cookies," David grumbled before sliding into the driver's seat of his car.

"I can't help that I like Chinese food," Specs defended before sitting next to his friend in the passenger seat. "And fortune cookies have to be _the_ best food ever invented."


	6. Let's Go Bowling

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**VI  
Let's Go Bowling**

"Arghed!" burst Specs, throwing the notebook that was once sitting quietly on his lap across the room.

"The homework isn't that bad," David commented calmly, looking up from where his head had been bent into his science textbook. "It's actually pretty easy stuff once you understand the basic idea."

"It's not the homework," Specs growled as he glared at David, "It's the fact that the whole school thinks we're gay together and we aren't doing anything to prevent it."

"What do you want me to do about it?" David asked, closing his book and looking at his friend, "It's old news, no one cares anymore… I just don't understand why you think it's such a big problem."

"Look, I know I'm over reacting, okay? But I can't help it," Specs tried to explain. "Every time I finally calm myself down another question about the whole thing pops into my head. How long has the rumor been circulating? Are there people who started treating me differently and I just didn't notice? What about me makes people think I'm gay? Why would people think I'd willingly go out with _you_, of all people?"

"What's wrong with me?" David asked, putting down his homework and looking a little upset.

Specs gave him an odd look for a minute and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "You're… Are you seriously asking this? Don't you dare tell me you actually want to go out with me. I know you David, you aren't a fag…gay…homosexual…whatever the hell the politically correct term is."

"Why? Would it be so bad if I _did_?" David answered, looking quite angry.

"No!" Specs burst out before reconsidering, "No, yes, yes it would be that bad. You can't seriously… You don't really have a crush on me. Do you?" Suddenly he was looking very worried and very uncomfortable. So much so in fact, that he looked as if he'd flee the house if David did a single thing to answer in the positive.

"I don't have a crush on you," David replied, sighing as his anger swept away and was replaced by exhaustion.

"Are you in love with me?" Specs ventured quite seriously, making sure David's feelings for him weren't anything more than less of a crush.

David's anger seemed to rush back into him. "Go to hell, Specs," he shouted out before marching to the front door and stomping out before slamming it shut with a loud bang.

Specs realized a little late that he was in _David's_ house, and therefore he should have been the one that got to slam the door. Picking up his books with a forced calm he walked out into the Monday afternoon sun, making sure to slam the door behind him as well.

* * *

Dutchy walked the streets with a quiet air, wishing it were night so that fewer people would be out to run into him.

His friends had been no help, though really he probably shouldn't have expected them to be (druggies were rarely ever reliable unless it required fucking up. Dutchy knew that little fact from both first and third person experience). Unfortunately that hardly solved the problem of Sean Conlon kissing him.

Did it mean anything? Did it not? Was Sean even gay?

Of course, these things always happened to Dutchy. A new guy would come to school, Dutchy would fall for him immediately, he'd make an idiot out of himself for a couple of weeks, and then the nameless guy would get a girlfriend and Dutchy's crush would be over. It was no wonder his friends weren't taking him as seriously as he wanted them to.

This situation was so different from the others though. Sean sat with them at lunch, didn't act like they were the scum of the earth, he knew Dutchy existed, and they had kissed.

…Well, to be truthful, it was Sean that had kissed him, and just on the cheek, but still, a kiss is a kiss.

But did it really mean something…or not?

And it probably didn't, Dutchy realized as a bout of depression overwhelmed him and made him feeling heavy. If it meant something Sean wouldn't have done it in front of everyone. He wouldn't have just ignored him afterwards and went on to talk to Bumlets and Itey and Skittery like nothing had happened.

But why would you kiss someone if you didn't mean something by it? Why would you do that to someone?

Was Sean just oblivious to people's feelings…or did he have a hard time expressing himself?

Or did Sean think that he liked him, but when he kissed him he changed his mind and decided that it was easier to pretend like nothing happened?

Or did he kiss him in the hopes that Dutchy would kiss him back and reciprocate his feelings? Did he still expect him to do something?

Dutchy looked at the ground, slowly walking as people pushed by him and rushed to wherever it was they were going.

Perhaps it was fate that he was slammed into or perhaps an accident; either way he wasn't too overjoyed with it at first.

"Watch where you're going!" screamed the person who had run into him as he tried to continue on his way.

Dutchy was about to let it go until the person had yelled. He was depressed, sure, and he didn't feel as if he could do anything about…anything, but the shout had jolted him out of his depression slightly so he readily yelled back. "Watch where _I'm_ going? _You're_ the one that ran into _me_!" he shouted as he grabbed the person's arm and swung him around.

"Dutchy?" Specs asked, losing his anger during the grab as he was swung into his ex-friend's chest and they both toppled over onto the sidewalk.

"Specs," Dutchy answered, looking at the person on top of him while all the people rushing by gave both boys a dirty look.

"Sorry, I guess," Specs replied, getting up off of Dutchy and smoothing out his clothes before he helped the other boy up.

"Yeah, no, it's fine," Dutchy shrugged off, falling back into his depression a little bit more.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Specs asked suddenly as they stood face-to-face and endured the awkwardness together.

"Uh, sure, I guess so," Dutchy answered reluctantly. "What's up?"

"Did you ever hear about me and David?" Specs forced himself to ask as people jostled the two boys on both sides.

"About what?" Dutchy asked in confusion before guessing, "That you two were going out? Yeah, I heard that. How's it going for you?"

"I-it's not," Specs answered, a little bewildered that the other boy knew what he was talking about so quickly.

"You broke up?" Dutchy asked with sympathy in his eyes, "I'm sorry, Specs."

"No!" Specs shouted out, as a car honked loudly, "No. We were never going out…I mean, it was just this stupid rumor and I just found out about it."

"Oh," Dutchy replied, unable to think of what Specs wanted him to say, "Well, okay. Why does it matter if I know then? …If it's just this stupid rumor…not that I ever put much stock in it in the first place."

"No, that wasn't the question," Specs answered as he became noticeably flustered, "I just had to make sure you knew that before I asked you the actual question that I wanted to ask you before."

"Oh, yeah, okay," Dutchy replied, feeling completely confused, "So what was the question then?"

"Did you think of me any differently…when you thought you found out about me and David," Specs asked, his utter lack of comfort not going unnoticed.

"So…to rephrase," Dutchy tried to sort out, wishing that he really wasn't as stupid as he felt, "'would I look at you any different if you were gay?'"

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm asking," Specs admitted, "Not that I am…gay…not that I have a problem with that either…you know."

"Yeah, I guess I would," Dutchy answered as he nodded happily, knowing that it wasn't the answer the other boy wanted to hear.

"What?" Specs asked, obviously surprised and disappointed, "How?"

"Don't you think I've answered enough questions? I thought it was just going to be the first one," Dutchy complained in a mocking manner.

"Dutchy, seriously, stop kidding around. Would you really treat me differently?"

"Jesus, Specs, I don't know, probably. I mean, people would have to, wouldn't they?"

"How? How would people treat me differently?" Specs asked, nearing hysterics.

"You want to go get some coffee and talk it over?" Dutchy asked, taking a glance over the very crowded streets. "I don't have anywhere I need to be for a couple of hours."

"Yeah, okay," Specs said, nodding his head and acting a little out of it, "Lead the way then."

* * *

"This sucks," Blink sighed as he poked a fish swimming around in the small pond he sat in front of.

"Stop poking them," Mush ordered lightly, "Mom gets really upset when anyone does that."

"I know, I know," Blink replied, sighing again. "Where's Racetrack? There's nothing to do."

"He had to go home to do his homework after school because of his parents. You should know the schedule by now," Mush replied, giving Blink a playful shrug as he smiled.

"Yeah, but he's usually done by now, isn't he?"

Mush shrugged, "Maybe he just had more than usual."

"Yeah, maybe," Blink shrugged back, "but that doesn't make me any less bored."

"Alright, let's go somewhere then," Mush suggested as he got up and grabbed Blink's hand to help him up as well.

"Sounds better than this," Blink said, not letting go of the hand clutching his as he calmly walked with his friend to the car, "Where to?"

"Uh, if you want to risk getting yelled at we can try and go to Racetrack's house," Mush suggested reluctantly, finally letting go of the hand he held in order to climb into the driver's seat.

Blink jumped into the passenger's side, thinking nothing about the fact that they had been holding hands. "Let's waste some time first," he suggested, "That way it's more probable he'd be done with his homework."

"It's your choice," Mush gave in easily, "So where do you want to go to waste some time?"

"We already ate, so that crosses off any type of food," Blink replied, thinking aloud, "A movie is too long. How do you feel about going bowling?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Mush accepted happily, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.

* * *

"So how would you treat me differently?" Specs asked as soon as they received their coffees.

"Well…I'd certainly stop seeing you with a girlfriend, wouldn't I?" Dutchy answered happily.

"What? That's it?" Specs asked, wondering why he had had to go get coffee just to hear Dutchy state the obvious.

"Hey, you're the one who asked," Dutchy shrugged. "Look," he said, leaning in closer and taking on a more serious air, "Anything personal you tell people will either make them look at you differently or will make them ignore the facts. It's absolutely impossible to accept something about someone and not change your outlook about them; even though the changes may be subtle."

"And what? I'm just supposed to be okay with that? I don't want people to look at me any differently," Specs answered with a small amount of anger in his voice. "Your theory's crap anyway. You can tell someone something personal and nothing has to change."

"Yes, it does. Say I told you my favorite music and you accepted that fine. Okay, now, when asked what music I want to listen to you're going to already assume the type I'm going to pick. Or, you might think of me when you hear my favorite band on the radio. It's neither a bad nor a good thing; it's just something that slowly happens when you get to know someone better," Dutchy explained.

"So now that you know I'm not gay, are you going to go back to the way you looked at me before?" Specs asked, ready for things to go back to normal.

"No, I'd think about this incident and this conversation when your sexual orientation came up," Dutchy answered honestly, "Which isn't too unthinkable, seeing as how this is the first time we've actually talked in quite awhile."

"So in other words, no one will ever look at me the same again?"

"I suppose not, but it's your choice as to whether that's a good or a bad thing. I told my friends I was gay, and now it's like we're closer than before," Dutchy replied, surprisingly without any hesitation.

"But I'm not gay; it's just going to make people look at me _wrong_!"

"Then that's their problem, isn't it? Your friends will accept you no matter what; or rather…I'd like to think they would. If they don't then they weren't really friends in the first place, were they? …But I'm sure you've heard that a million and three times before," Dutchy responded with his same easy-going attitude.

"It's not that simple."

"It really is," Dutchy assured, nodding his head as he sipped his coffee, "You just don't think it is because you still have feelings attached to the friends that may not accept you. From a purely logic view point it's quite easy."

"But I'm not purely logical, am I? Logic tells me that people thinking I'm gay isn't really a big deal, but unfortunately the rest of me isn't listening very closely," Specs explained.

"Yeah, but that's the whole problem, isn't it? People aren't just logical, they're a whole variety of an entire bunch of quite a range of different things," Dutchy enlightened nonchalantly, still sipping his coffee quietly.

A silence fell over the table after that, a little awkward, but a little contemplative as well.

"So…you're gay, huh?" Specs asked quietly, "I didn't know that."

"Not much of the school does. I'd prefer if it wasn't spread around just yet," Dutchy explained, still calm as if he was already completely sure that Specs wouldn't tell anyone. "Will you look at me any differently?"

"Yeah, I get your point," Specs submitted, "I will, but not very much."

"Shit," Dutchy said as soon as he glanced at the clock, "I've gotta go."

"What? Hot date?" Specs asked, slightly disappointed that Dutchy was leaving but not daring to show it.

Dutchy threw a five onto the table, enough to cover the both of them, "God no, I'm just going to be hanging out with friends, smoking it up, living up to my reputation. …Though Sean's going to be there, so if God loves me it might go in that direction." He wasn't quite sure what made him say it, but he didn't regret confiding in his long-lost friend.

"You have a crush on the new kid?" Specs asked with happy disbelief as Dutchy stood up and he continued sitting.

"Yeah," Dutchy admitted sheepishly. "We'll do this again, okay? And I'll tell you all about my wonderfully annoying crush."

"Sounds good," Specs said lamely as the other boy darted off.

* * *

"I kicked your ass _again_!" Swifty shouted out in glee. "Ha! You're only good at sports that could double as foreplay," he pointed out happily.

"Shut up," Jack ordered good-naturedly, "I am not. You're just…distracting."

"Because my body is so extremely hot and you just can't take your eyes off of it?" Swifty teased.

"More like you keep making noise every time I start to throw the ball down the lane," Jack explained, smiling.

"I'm just giving you an excuse to look at my extremely hot body," Swifty explained with mock arrogance, flipping his hair that was starting to grow too long.

"You're just an ass," Jack corrected. "And not only an ass," he continued, "but an ass that got me a week's worth of detention."

"Yeah, but that doesn't start until next week," Swifty shrugged off.

"_And_ called me gay in front of our entire Current Events class," Jack laughed, ignoring his friend as he continued farther, "God, I really don't want to go back to school tomorrow and face that."

"Yeah, you're right," Swifty admitted with a frown, "Tomorrow's going to suck. You want to just skip?"

"Nah, people will just joke about it even more if they know I think of the issue as anything more than a joke," Jack shrugged, "but since I don't it's really no big deal to begin with."

"It _was_ fucking hilarious though," Swifty admitted without reluctance, "If we went back in time nothing could stop me from doing it again."

"You're such a shitty friend," Jack said as if just stumbling upon the realization. "Are we playing another game?" he asked, digging into his wallet in preparation for the answer 'yes'.

"Are you paying?" Swifty asked, taking a sip of his drink that was sitting on a nearby table.

"Only half," Jack answered with a smirk, "This isn't a date, Swift; I'm not going to pay for you."

"But if it was a date…would you?" Swifty asked hypothetically, digging into his pocket and throwing a wad of small bills to his friend.

"Of course," Jack answered, swiping the bills from the air, "I would treat you like the princess I know you are."

"I'm flattered," Swifty answered before snorting. "Now go pay for another game, Dip-Shit."

"Yes Ma'am," Jack answered before running off to the front of the store to pay for their fourth game.

Swifty sighed, already bored without the presence of Jack. He looked around, swinging his feet from the chair he sat at with some difficulty (since he was a little too tall to be able to do the act comfortably) and finally settled on looking towards the direction Jack had gone.

He had a few suspicions about Jack, but none that he wasn't afraid to mention to the other man. Unfortunately they were rather serious suspicions and Swifty didn't know how to bring them up without getting his friend offended.

He was almost positive through his quiet observations that Jack didn't have a real place to live. He wasn't sure how much it bothered him, seeing as how Jack seemed to be getting by rather well. Swifty didn't know who was helping him, but he certainly owed them his thanks.

However, whoever was doing this made the subject a little harder to bring up. After all, Jack seemed healthy, clean, and happy. Wasn't that all that mattered? Of course it wasn't, and Swifty knew that his friend should have the right to be able to get a stable home environment, but his cowardice always argued that someone was obviously already helping him.

He didn't want to shove his nose in where it didn't belong, no matter how worried he was. As a result he became more and more anxious whenever Jack looked in the least bit disheveled, or came in just a few seconds late for class.

"Uh…excuse me," a shy voice said, interrupting Swifty's thoughts and making him jump a little in his seat.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" the same voice said sincerely as another voice started to laugh.

Swifty turned around; ready to beat up whoever it was that decided laughing at him seemed like a good idea. However, surprise and the little bit of loyalty he had left stopped him.

"Mush? Blink? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, letting the old nicknames slip.

"We didn't mean to bother you," Mush said, still sounding like he was talking to someone he didn't know and not an old friend, "But Blink and I always use this lane and I was wondering if you could…uh…switch with us."

"We'll play you for it," Jack suggested from behind them, "If we win we get it; if you win you get it."

* * *

"Hey guys," Dutchy greeted as soon as he came into the old warehouse they always used for smoking together. "Is Sean here yet?"

"No. I'm tempted to start smoking without him though," Bumlets replied, breaking up the weed they were going to be smoking while taking the seeds and stems out at the same time.

"Yeah, what the fuck kept you?" Skittery asked from Itey's lap. It might have looked cute if Skittery didn't cuss all the time to warn people off of making fun of him and if Itey didn't have one of his hands down the other boy's pants.

"I ran into someone," Dutchy shrugged, finding it even easier than normal to ignore Skittery and Itey's position. "Remember Specs?"

"You ran into Specs? And he kept you long enough to make you late?" Bumlets asked, clear disbelief in his voice, "Bullshit."

"Yeah. And he told me he wasn't gay and isn't going out with David," Dutchy replied. "He was freaking out about it."

"That's kind of late, isn't it? That rumor's been circulating around for quite awhile, hasn't it? I heard about it months ago," Itey spoke up, acting like he _didn't_ have his hand down his fuck-buddy's pants.

Their conversation was stopped by footsteps and they turned around to see Sean.

"A warehouse? How cliché," Sean remarked, walking over to the group with a smirk on his face as he took one of the empty beaten up lawn chairs.

"It's better than nothing," Bumlets shrugged, finally lighting up now that everyone was there.

Sean shrugged as he grabbed the bowl from Bumlets and lit up before he dimly wondered why he had decided to meet with them. Mentally shaking his head at his thoughts he decided he really didn't care and started to try to get himself as high as possible.

* * *

"Jack! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Swifty shouted as his friend got another split, "That's the third time in a row you've done that!"

"Stop complaining. We're still winning," Jack pointed out.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Swifty argued right back, "Jesus, you couldn't get a strike to save your life."

"You willing to put twenty bucks on that statement?" Jack asked.

"I'm willing to put twenty bucks _and_ my reputation on that statement," Swifty raised.

"Reputation? Fine, I'll call," Jack agreed. "The terms?"

"If you can't get a strike this entire game you have to admit to the whole school that you're only good at sports that could double as foreplay," Swifty challenged.

"And if I _do_ get a strike (which, by the way, I will) then _you_ have to admit to the school that when you watch sports that could double as foreplay you undress the guys with your eyes," Jack decided.

"Deal," Swifty agreed.

"This is going to be interesting," Jack replied as he grabbed another bowling ball in an attempt to go for a spare, "I can't wait until you tell Masson."

"I can't wait until you tell Sarah," Swifty rephrased.

"Do you guys make bets like this often?" Blink asked with curiosity.

"Not usually; we normally just stick to money," Jack explained before throwing his ball down the lane.

"The stakes are higher than ever before," Swifty announced in a deep and serious voice, "Will Jack Kelly survive telling the school he's gay? Will the school still look at him the same way?"

"…The world may never know," Jack continued in the same voice, "because it is impossible for Jack Kelly to lose this bet."

Swifty snorted, dropping his fake voice, "Yeah, and then dog crap will fall from the sky and bums will suddenly search for work."

"Thanks for having so much faith," Jack replied sarcastically as his ball hit one pin but left the other standing upright.

"So…when are you two getting together?" Swifty asked, shifting the conversation to Blink and Mush.

"Getting together?" Mush asked with confusion.

"Yeah, getting together," Swifty tried to explain, "Like…become boyfriends…have that whole I-love-you-no-I-love-you-more argument…you know, get together."

"We're best friends; becoming boyfriends would just be...awkward," Blink pointed out, grabbing his bowling ball and hurling it down the lane. "And what makes you think we'd get together anyway?"

"Hey man, it's happening," Swifty tried to convince, "First Itey and Skittery, then Specs and David…it's only a matter of time before you two decide that fucking each other would be a good idea."

"Yeah? And when are you and Jack going to get together then?" Blink asked as if he had just found a loophole in the other boy's logic.

"We already have," Swifty answered without missing a beat, "but it didn't work out; fortunately we were able to salvage what little relationship we had left and stay friends."

"Bullshit," Blink snorted, "That would have been all over the school."

"I never really saw David and Specs getting together," Mush interrupted, "They don't seem to have any real chemistry for that type of a relationship."

Swifty shrugged, not really caring, "I only know what I heard, and if school gossip says that you two should be getting together soon I'm not going to disbelieve it; gossip queens always seem to know everything before even the people involved do."

"I have no intention of dating my best friend," Blink answered.

"And yet it's going to happen. Weird, huh?" Swifty replied before taking his turn.


	7. A Gay Day

**Updated: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

**VII  
A Gay Day**

"So you just ended up spending the whole afternoon with Swifty and Cowboy? Jesus," Race mumbled as soon as Mush and Blink got done explaining to him why they had never came to try and pick him up the day before.

Currently they were on their way to school, Racetrack driving while looking beside him at Blink and behind him at Mush.

"And what? It was so exciting you just lost track of the time?" Race asked. He wasn't angry, far from it actually. Truthfully he was more amused than anything, and he happily let it show in both his tone of voice and on his face.

"So you aren't mad?" Mush asked to make sure, even though the answer was an obvious one.

" 'Course not, you two can have other friends besides me; I don't get jealous that easily. Plus, my folks were pretty pissy; I bet I couldn't have gone out anyway, so it wasn't as if I could have come with you even if you _had_ come to pick me up," Racetrack explained. "So…who lost the bet? Cowboy or Swifty?" he asked, both changing the subject in order to try and alleviate Mush's guilt for forgetting about him and because of his curiosity.

"Jack ended up getting a strike in his very last frame," Blink laughed, "Swifty was so pissed."

Racetrack smirked, "But it's definitely viable, especially when you realize how much dumb luck Cowboy always seems to have on his side."

"Apparently they make bets pretty regularly," Blink explained, "It leaves you wondering how many times Swifty has managed to win."

"I'd imagine enough to get him to keep doing it," Racetrack answered.

"But if he's anything like you then he could lose a million and twenty-three times and'll still never give up," Blink joked.

"Yeah, we all get it, I'm a gambling addict, " Racetrack mock-snapped, "The joke's a little over done at this point, wouldn't you say?"

"The fact that you of all people are a gambling addict is a joke that could never be overdone," Blink explained, silently chuckling.

"What do you mean 'me of all people'? Why can't I be a gambling addict?"

"You're just so responsible the rest of the time," Mush explained for Blink.

"Exactly, therefore I should be able to gamble because I'm responsible about everything else; I should have at least one thing I can willingly lose myself in," Racetrack defended.

"Hey, you don't need to tell us," Blink replied, "We both agreed with you; it's your parents that need the convincing."

Racetrack scoffed, "You act as if that's an easy thing to do."

* * *

"You suck at bowling, Jack; it's a fact of life," Skittery tried to convince his friend, "For you to become anything more than mediocre for even two seconds has to mean the end of the world.

"May I remind you that I'm the one who won the bet?" Jack asked smugly, obviously extremely happy with himself, "Therefore you can no longer say I suck at bowling."

"That's the entire point!" Swifty shouted from where he stood outside the front of the school, "I'm trying to tell you that there are bigger things to deal with now! …The apocalypse for instance! …Or Hell freezing over! Do you even realize what a frozen hell could _do_ to our climate? Because I really don't think you do!"

"I wouldn't have thought it'd have mattered, what with the apocalypse coming so soon and all," Jack smirked, "Though I have to admit I hope we die _after_ you tell Masson you like to undress him with your eyes."

"There's just no _possible_ way you could have won that bet!" Swifty cried out, unconsciously letting everyone within a fifty-foot radius know exactly what was going on and the catastrophe it entailed, "That was probably the first strike you've ever gotten in your _entire_ life! You can't be good at sports that don't involve foreplay! It's like cats are suddenly swimming, and bicycles are suddenly time machines, and trees are suddenly eating people, and grass is suddenly screaming bloody murder when people try to mow their lawns, and-"

"Swifty, chill out," Jack laughed, "You're overreacting. It's not like I didn't still get the lowest score."

"Trees don't _eat_ people Jack, and you _don't_ bowl a strike…_ever_. I want to know what the _fuck_ is going on here," Swifty replied angrily, acting half-crazed.

"Hey guys," Masson greeted, venturing up to the two friends and looking uncertainly at Swifty, "What's up?"

"When you play sports I picture you and the rest of the team naked," Swifty replied with an obviously forced calm. He watched Masson look from him to Jack and then back to him before asking, "Confused?"

"…Yeah," Masson admitted hesitantly, now training his gaze fully upon Swifty.

"Good, because so am I!" Swifty shouted out before stomping over to the front door, swinging it open with all his might, and continuing his path inward.

"He's coming to terms with his homosexuality," Jack explained to Masson with a whisper loud enough to let the people who were listening around them hear too, "He's a little upset right now; just give him a few days and I'm sure he'll be good as new."

* * *

"So? What's the verdict? Gay or straight?" Dutchy asked his friends as they smoked at the usual place before school started.

"How the hell are we supposed to know? Just because we smoked weed with him you think we suddenly know him inside and out now?" Skittery replied, taking a hit of his cigarette and wishing they had smoked weed later in the night so he could be buzzed this morning…being buzzed the day after smoking weed was the best feeling _ever_.

"I just thought we'd take a vote," Dutchy tried to defend.

"Someone's sexual preference is not decided democratically, Dutch," Skittery lectured, "We could all vote he was gay; it wouldn't make it true."

"I want to know why our morning conversations always seem to consist of Sean," Bumlets spoke up, "Isn't there anything else going on that we can talk about?"

"I see where you're coming from," Itey told Bumlets, "but truthfully, I'm going to have to go with a 'no' as an answer to your question."

"Wow, that really is pathetic, isn't it?" Skittery asked, "Well I don't know about you, but I'm blaming Dutchy; he's the one that always seems to bring Sean up somehow."

"Oh definitely," Itey readily agreed.

"He can't help it," Bumlets replied, seemingly defending Dutchy, "I think there's something wrong with his brain."

"The fact that I think about-"

"…And talk about…" Skittery interrupted.

"-Sean a lot is not proof that there is something wrong with my brain," Dutchy argued, deciding to simply ignore his friend's interruption.

"And yet you don't argue that there _is_ something wrong with your brain," Itey pointed out matter-of-factly.

"Well obviously," Skittery explained, "It's so easy to see that even _he_ can't deny it. The fact that he gets a new crush on someone every five seconds is a clear indication that-"

"Sean isn't just another crush!" Dutchy tried to argue, "He's different! He talks to me, and he knows I exist, and he kissed me!"

"And yet you don't seem to realize that he's just using us to get rid of David, and that stupid kiss he gave you yesterday meant dip-shit to _him_," Skittery explained bluntly.

"Then why'd he hang out with us yesterday after school? He had no need to try and get rid of David _then_," Dutchy argued, passionately hoping that Sean wasn't using him.

"Free weed," Itey answered with a shrug.

"It's nothing different than all your other crushes," Skittery snapped, "Either tell him or stop whining about it, because I seriously doubt anything will change."

"Hey Sean," Bumlets greeted nonchalantly, his words cutting off whatever Dutchy's response would have been, "We were just talking about you."

"Again?" Spot smirked, "I'm flattered; I had no idea I was that interesting."

"It's being debated whether you're that outrageously intriguing or if our lives are that unbelievably boring and monotonous," Bumlets explained casually, putting his cigarette out on the wall.

"I'm betting on the latter; no offense," Itey cut in while putting out his cigarette as well.

"But _I'm_ betting that Dutchy would bet on the former, wouldn't you, Dutch?" Skittery asked, looking towards the other boy for his answer while simultaneously dropping his own cigarette on the ground.

"I should get to class," Dutchy answered before flicking his cigarette and then scurrying off towards the closest door that would take him into the building.

"For not liking pussy he sure does a good impression of one," Spot remarked before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"So you know then?" Bumlets asked him. Admittedly he was a little surprised, but overall his brain was telling him that he really should have guessed; Sean was way too observant and Dutchy was way too blatant.

"Well duh, Dutchy _is_ pretty obvious about it," Skittery explained, "And I supposed it didn't hurt that I told him about it."

Spot gave one of his infamous silent snorts, "Don't insult me; I realized before you told me."

"Yeah and listen to what he's going to do about it," Skittery demanded excitedly as he turned to Itey and Bumlets, "I swear to god, this is the best part."

Spot sighed as Bumlets and Itey rounded on him expectantly, "I'm not doing anything. If it's that important he can tell me about it himself; I'm not going to reward him for being a wimp by bringing it up."

"Wow," Bumlets replied first, "I feel like you belong with us even more now."

* * *

David shut his locker, careful not to call any attention to himself. At this point he wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk to Specs or not. But still, Specs _was_ his friend and one argument really wouldn't change that, no matter how much of a dimwit Specs could be.

And Specs _was_ a dimwit, that much was clear. He was seriously lacking any observational skills a normal human had and he seemed to have absolutely zero common sense. However, Specs was a good friend (sometimes) and he meant well (most of the time) and he had been friends with David for practically forever.

Unfortunately David was starting to see himself at a dead end. While he knew he was a pushover he also knew that Specs would never be the one to apologize. Realistically speaking, ending his entire friendship with Specs was not something he was comfortable doing. At the same time, however, he didn't want his friend to continue treading on him like some kind of carpet mat.

Stuck at a crossroads that didn't seem to have any solution he had decided that avoiding Specs was probably the best idea at the moment.

"Hey Davey, can I talk to you for a minute or two?" Specs asked, unknowingly throwing all of his friend's plans for ignoring him out the window.

David's thoughts had abandoned him as soon as they had heard the 'Hey'. "Oh hi Specs. Can I help you – I mean… Is there something that you need?" He stuttered, quite thrown off by Specs' unplanned appearance.

"Did you come up with an answer for question twenty-six on our English assignment? Because I can't even begin to guess the possible _candidates_ for the right answer," Specs explained, happy to pretend that yesterday had never happened.

"Yeah, I can let you copy it at lunch if you want," David easily replied, giving in without a second thought.

"Thanks man; you're a life saver," Specs remarked before rushing off again.

"Any time, Specs," David sighed to no one in particular as he mentally yelled at himself for letting Specs get away with everything.

He really, _really_ wished he would stop doing that.

* * *

Racetrack stared over at Sean during the first fifteen minutes of his Current Events class. A part of him (most of him, if he chose to be honest) couldn't even begin to believe that a person like Sean even existed, let alone that he was sitting next to him in his first period class.

And even though realistically he knew that Sean must have had to kill people (he had heard so much about people being killed by what was probably the Brooklyn gang leader via the evening news that his logical side had no trouble believing the idea) the rest of him (the emotional, unrealistic part, he guessed) just couldn't see someone as girly as Sean strangling someone to death.

"Are you going to ask me about killing people or are you just trying to paint my portrait?" Spot whispered bluntly, growing quite tired of the other boy's intense staring.

"Well that was rather…straightforward," Race mumbled as he tried to think up a correct response.

Spot sighed, as if already exhausted by the conversation. "The portrait thing was an out, if you want to take it," he pointed out in a rare moment of sympathy, "Just make fun of the fact that I look like a girl and you can go back to staring."

"How did it feel…? …The first time you killed someone, I mean," Racetrack asked, hoping that whatever the answer was it would convince him of at least some of Sean's past crimes.

Spot let off a silent snort to show his amusement, "I'm not talking about this _here_, of all places; skip lunch with me if you aren't just bullshitting around to waste time."

"I'm not just bullshitting around," Racetrack promised.

"Prove it," Sean demanded with an uncaring air, "by skipping lunch with me."

"I will," Racetrack readily obeyed.

"Good," Spot commented just because Race kept looking at him as if waiting for an answer.

"I'll even skip sixth if we don't have enough time to talk just during lunch," Racetrack offered.

"Aren't we done with this conversation yet?" Spot grumbled, growing more annoyed at continuing a conversation that was probably through five minutes ago.

"Right. Sorry," Racetrack mumbled, forcing himself to finally look away from Sean.

"Meet me by my motorcycle as soon as lunch starts," Spot demanded with a sigh after a long period of an awkward and tense silence. He mentally cursed himself for actually bringing a dead conversation back to life.

"Can Blink and Mush come too?" Racetrack asked, knowing that they would want to come and ask Sean some questions of their own.

"Who?" Spot asked with confusion before deciding to shrug it off. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I have a motorcycle, meaning I can only bring one person with me," he explained, clearly tired of talking about this particular subject.

"We can just bring my car then; it's big enough to carry all of us," Racetrack suggested, "I'll even let you drive if you want."

"We're taking my motorcycle," Spot argued, "Which means only one person is coming with me; there are no negotiations."

"Why do we absolutely have to take your motorcycle? Why are you so against Blink and Mush coming with me?" Racetrack asked, a little annoyed that Spot was so dead set against anyone else coming.

"We're going to headquarters, where we will be shot on sight if they don't recognize me," Spot explained as plainly as he could. "We're taking my motorcycle. Is this conversation finally over now?"

Race nodded his head and turned to face the front of the class, trying to think of anything besides being shot by a sniper.

* * *

"Hiya Skitts," Itey greeted, pulling him out of the herd of people walking in the opposite direction as him. "Come skip second period with me."

"But I have English next, and I'm behind enough in that class as it is," Skitts explained as his excuse, but he stood unmoving with Itey's hand clamped over his wrist.

"I'll just give you my notes from the class," Itey offered. "You aren't fooling anyone; I know you want to skip English."

Skittery furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Itey curiously, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. "Why are _you_ trying to get _me_ to skip class? It's always the other way around. Did you fuck something up?"

"First off: thanks for being so tactful about it," Itey replied sarcastically. "Second off: I did not _fuck_ anything _up_," he explained a little angrily. He breathed out a sigh to calm himself down before continuing, "I just…feel like being with you right now, okay?"

"I don't know, Itey; that sounds more like boyfriend territory to me, and we're not…you know…boyfriends," Skittery told his friend hesitantly, forcing himself not to trail off at the end.

"It's _best friend_ territory, Skitts," Itey argued, feeling a little guilty because it was, without a doubt, definitely boyfriend territory."

Skitts smiled knowingly, leaning over to peck Itey on the cheek as the last few people in the hall scurried around them. "It's not best friend territory, Itey, it's boyfriend territory. Don't think that I can't tell the difference."

Itey sighed again, leaning his forehead against Skittery's chest as the bell for second period ripped through the empty hallways.

"I know," Itey admitted, his response muffled a bit by Skittery's chest. "That doesn't change the fact that I want to be with you right now though."

Alright," Skitts sighed, "Since I already missed the bell and you're just acting too cute right now…where do you want to go?"

"Back of my car," Itey answered, standing upright and smiling.

Skittery smiled back as the other boy dragged him towards the closest door that led to the outside of the school. "Only if you agree to blow me in the school parking lot," he tried to bargain.

"Kinky," Itey replied, "It's a deal then."

* * *

Third period and Itey was still with Skitts in the back seat of his car. They were both devoid of shirts, pants unbuttoned and hair mussed as they lied on one another.

"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you're my best friend?" Itey asked, looking up at the cloth ceiling of his car.

"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you're my fuck buddy?" Skittery answered.

It was a few more seconds before either of them spoke again.

"Did I just ruin the atmosphere?" Skittery asked, his apology coming through via the sound of his voice.

"Maybe if it were with anyone else, but I knew what you meant. It was actually quite sweet," Itey explained.

"Good," Skittery responded, "I'd hate to ruin a moment."

Itey laughed, "You always ruin moments, Skitts. Last time I checked you found some sadistic enjoyment in it. Don't tell me you no longer see the pleasure in something you found so fun just yesterday; that's a sign of depression, you know."

"I still get enjoyment out of it, therefore it's nothing like depression at all," Skittery replied, as if the answer was obvious, "But that's ruining moments between other people, not with you and me. Moments between the two of us are much too important to even think of trying to ruin, let alone doing the actual act."

"That's a very boyfriend-thing of you to say," Itey pointed out with a light-hearted tone and a soft smile, "You do realize that, don't you? Don't even think about telling me that you've gone soft; I don't think I could believe it."

"I never really thought about it like that," Skittery admitted, shrugging as much as he could while tangled up in Itey, "but I doubt sleeping with someone is going to make me a nicer person."

"Yeah," Itey laughed, "I suppose it wouldn't. I like that you aren't a nice person though. I love that you never concern yourself with people's feelings, which I suppose labels me the masochist of the relationship."

"That was never a debate," Skittery piped up.

"But still, saying the first thing that comes into your head just makes everything a lot easier," Itey continued, only allowing Skittery an unimpressed smile for his comment.

"That's what our whole relationship is about though, isn't it? Saying whatever you're thinking and not worrying about hurting the other's feelings; it fits us," Skittery explained.

"Yeah, but I don't think I could ever do the same thing with anyone else," Itey mused before being interrupted by a knock on one of his back windows.

"Moment's over," Skittery pointed out dryly as he saw that it was their vice principal.

A muttered, "Fuck," from Itey was his only response.

* * *

"I'm assigning you all new seats today," the teacher announced. "I've chosen to rearrange some things, you see," she explained, pointing at the desks that were not in the same position as yesterday. "I decided a change of pace was in order, _so_ when I call your name please sit in the desk that I point to."

Bumlets rolled his eyes, wandering yet again why he had chosen Honors Calculus as a course this year. Sure, he loved math, but without his friends around it was more than a little dull.

"Diego."

Bumlets jerked out of his thoughts as soon as the teacher called out his name before quickly going over to his new designated seat and sitting down.

"David."

Bumlets only blinked to show his surprise, caught off guard with the idea that his childhood friend whom he hadn't talked to in years would be sitting next to him for at least a few months.

"Mouth," he greeted, making sure that none of the surprise he felt showed on his face.

"Bumlets," David replied, failing to hide his own surprise due to his eyes widening quite a bit, "I didn't know you were in this class."

"I keep quiet," Bumlets explained, making sure to keep his answer short and delivered with a monotone.

"Yeah, I guess you would have to be to…since I've never noticed you before," David struggled to reply before looking down at his desk in what could have been described as shame.

Bumlets just shrugged before going back to ignoring David like he had been doing until the misfortunes of today.

"I kind of wish Specs was here…in this class with me, I mean," David confessed, "But then at the same time I'm a little glad to have some breathing room…does that make any sense?"

"Honestly? No," Bumlets answered, sounding like he wouldn't have cared either way.

"Oh," David replied as a long and awkward silence filled in around them.

"I guess it's complicated," David's voice spoke up, trying to cover up the unbearable silence with words. "Specs is going through a sort of identity crisis right now, and he's kind of pulling me in with him…even though I thought I already had all of this stuff figured out awhile ago."

"If you actually want me to know what you're talking about then you're going to have to be more clear," Bumlets explained, "because right now I don't have any idea that the fuck you're going on about."

"Well, it all started…well…restarted I guess…I mean, the problem right now started when Specs found out about the school thinking he and I were a couple. He completely flipped out, which was exactly the opposite of what I thought he would do because he's always been such a gay rights activist. You'd think the worst outcome would be him just shrugging it off, but no, he's complaining about it every chance he gets. And now I don't know what to do because _I'm_ gay and do I tell him? Will he think I was hiding it from him? Because I wasn't, I just never deemed it important enough to tell him about it. But what will happen to our friendship if I do decide to tell him? And if I don't tell him will he find out later and be pissed at me? I just have no idea what to do anymore," David explained in a quiet, but rushed rant.

"So basically you just want to know whether or not you should tell Specs that you're gay?" Bumlets summed up, still successfully pulling off nonchalance.

"I guess that's the gist of it," David admitted, "…if you had to put it in the simplest terms."

"The conclusions are easy enough to get to," Bumlets explained, "Which one do you think is more important: having Specs know the truth or keeping your business private?"

"Well obviously if I chose the latter I'd just be a selfish asshole, right?" David asked, suddenly feeling very frustrated about his limited options and the whole situation in general.

Bumlets rolled his eyes, "I'm not asking you so I can analyze your character; you don't even have to tell me if you don't want to. Putting all circumstances and consequences aside, which one of the two would you rather do?"

"If I were to put everything else aside? Like, pretend everything will go my way once I either tell him or decide not to? I'd want him to know," David finally confessed.

"Well, that's it then; tell him."

* * *

"This type of behavior is way _beyond_ just disrespectful," the vice principal ranted, "It's vulgar, crude, ill-mannered, offensive, improper, distasteful, odious, insulting, unseemly, inappropriate…"

"I didn't know blowing someone could be described with so many adjectives," Skittery remarked to Itey in a stage whisper, making sure the vice principal could hear him.

"_At any rate_," Vice Principal Griffin continued, shooting a glare at Skittery, "You will both be severely punished. This act you pulled was an insult to your second _and_ third period teachers, an insult to this entire school as a whole, an insult to your parents, and an insult to yourselves."

"Sorry sir," Itey apologized when it seemed as if the vice principal was expecting some sort of input from his captives.

"I want you each to write five apology notes; one to each person you've disrespected today with your behavior," Griffin demanded.

"Does that include a note to myself? Because not only do I know the motivation and temptations behind my grotesque act, I also accept myself as I am and want me to only do what I think is best. Therefore, I don't need or even want an apology," Skittery explained.

"You will each be writing your five separate notes in detention, where you'll be spending your time after school until all of your notes have been received and accepted," the vice principal continued, only giving Skittery a glare once again, "After that, you are to both stay after school (Matt on Tuesdays and Thrusdays; Dominic on Mondays and Wednesdays) for a month to clean the building."

"A _month_?" Skittery mouthed to his partner-in-crime, looking quite revolted with the idea.

"Be thankful I'm not suspending you," Griffin snapped, catching the exchange, "Now get out of my office."

"Yes sir," Itey obeyed, tugging Skittery up and off his chair before shoving him out the door, eager to get away from the vice principal's field of vision before they got in even more trouble.

"What the hell was with all the 'sir' crap in there?" Skitts asked before they were even ten meters away from the main office.

"I was doing it in the hope that we wouldn't get ourselves into even more trouble. I think getting punished skipping school for sex is enough today, don't you? There's no need to add disrespect or talking back to the list, too, you know?" Itey explained.

"Disrespect? Don't make me laugh. _He_ was the one who interrupted _us_, not the other way around," Skittery argued, "We're the ones who should be angry. _And_ he made us skip half of lunch. For all he knows lunch could be my only meal of the day, but does he care? Obviously not, the bastard."

"Can you rant about it later? I seriously _am_ hungry," Itey replied, "And, by the way, lunch _just_ started; we might have missed two minutes of it at the most."

"You see Itey?" Skittery continued to complain, "This is exactly why America is so corrupt. People who would normally fight for their beliefs decide that being well-fed is more important."

"Yeah Skitts," Itey agreed sarcastically while rolling his eyes, "I'm sure that's _exactly_ the type of thing that happens. When, oh when, will people stop picking food over their beliefs? It's such a travesty!"

"Don't mock me," Skittery demanded, acting extremely insulted, "I'm perfectly serious."

"Then I think it's safe to say you're perfectly crazy," Itey replied.

"Why? Because I enjoy justice?"

"No, because you're ranting when you could be eating," Itey smiled, holding the cafeteria door open for his friend.

Skittery rolled his eyes, smiling at this point as well, "Oh...you and your stomach."

* * *

"Do you think he thinks you're gay, or do you think he thinks _you_ think you're gay?"

"I wasn't aware that something like that would matter," Swifty replied, "More importantly, I'm not even sure what you're trying to say."

Sarah sighed before trying to explain again, "If he thinks you're gay then he'll want to kick your ass. If he thinks you only _think_ you're gay then he might try to help remind you you're straight. Understand? They're entirely opposite reacts."

"Personally I've always felt that the opposite of 'kick your ass' was 'fuck your ass', but hey, 'help your ass' is almost the same thing, right?" Swifty asked, looking to Jack for support.

"But I bet you'd like 'fuck your ass' best out of all those choices," Jack joked before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"I didn't even know 'fuck your ass' was one of my options in the scenario," Swifty replied, laughing along with his friend.

"Okay…so which one is it?" Sarah asked eagerly, bringing them back to the more serious topic, "Which do you think it is?"

"Uh…I guess he thinks I think I'm gay," Swifty answered hesitantly. "But I doubt it matters," he continued, his voice picking up strength, "It was just a stupid joke anyway, so we can always straighten it out if we have to. And who the fuck cares what Masson thinks anyway?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Um…I don't know…maybe…the _entire_ school. Seriously, Swift, if Masson thinks you're gay then everyone thinks you're gay…you do realize that, don't you? I mean…you must…right?"

"Oh…yeah…of course I know that," Swifty sighed, giving up and deciding to just let Sarah freak out for him.

"Good. Now are we done?" Sarah asked, suddenly acting as if she was rushed for time.

"I thought you were eating lunch with us," Jack spoke up, sounding surprised, "What's the rush?"

"Um…first: we're sitting at one of the many _geeks'_ tables," Sarah pointed out as she stood up from her seat. "Second: here they come," she made her table-mates realize as she pointed at Blink, Mush, and Racetrack just getting finished purchasing their food and coming over before she rushed off to the popular table.

"Should we leave then?" Swifty asked uncertainly, "Because I don't really want to."

"Let's stay here," Jack decided. "If they want to talk to us they'll sit at their regular seats; if they don't want to sit with us then they can find somewhere else to go. We were here first anyway, so it's only fair."

"Yeah? And what's our excuse to everyone if we _do_ end up sitting with them? I doubt anyone would accept that we just wanted to have lunch with our old friends," Swifty reasoned.

"We'll just figure it out as we go," Jack shrugged, shutting up before Blink, Mush, and Racetrack got within hearing distance.

"Is this some April Fool's joke?" Racetrack asked to no one in particular as soon as he got to his regular table and saw the jocks sitting there.

"Now that's not a very nice greeting," Swifty mock scolded, "I'm a little offended. Why wouldn't we want to eat with you?"

Racetrack just shrugged, "You've never wanted to sit with us before."

"Well, I guess that's true enough, but that was before-"Jack struggled to explain before he was cut off.

"Before what? Before realizing that Blink and Mush haven't changed?" Racetrack asked matter-of-factly. "If your heads weren't stuck up your asses you would've noticed that before."

"Race!" Mush scolded, quite surprised by his friend's behavior, "They're just being nice."

"Hey," Spot interrupted loudly, appearing out of nowhere and demanding everyone's attention.

"What the hell do you want, New Kid?" Jack asked menacingly.

Sean seemed less than intimidated. "Race's ass," he answered, "on my motorcycle."

"Oh shit," Racetrack cursed, "I'm so sorry! I forgot all about that."

"I figured," Sean replied, rolling his eyes, "I also figured you'd bug me about it tomorrow if I didn't remind you today."

"Thanks," Race answered sarcastically before following Spot away from the cafeteria without another word.

Several seconds passed before any of the four broke the silence.

"What the hell was that about?" Swifty finally burst out.

Blink and Mush simultaneously shrugged, both looking at the door Race departed through curiously.

* * *

"So where are we going exactly?" Racetrack screamed so Spot could hear him over the roar of the motorcycle's engine.

"Can't hear you," Spot shouted back as if he didn't care what Race had to say anyway, and really, he didn't.

"I said 'so where are we going exactly?'" Racetrack yelled as loud as he could.

"Still can't hear you," Spot replied, his voice clear over the roar of traffic and wind even though it didn't sound as if he had raised his voice at all.

"I said-!" Racetrack began before being interrupted.

"Just tell me when we get there," Spot demanded, sounding a little irritated but not saying anything else.

Racetrack nodded against Sean's back, his grip around the other boy's waist tightening as they turned a sharp corner and barely made it back upright. "Are you sure you won't kill us?"

"Still can't hear you," Spot brushed off, not cutting off the motorcycle's pace one bit.

"Sean! Slow down!" Racetrack called out, gripping onto Spot even tighter as they swerved dangerously to pass a truck.

"Can't hear you," Spot reminded him uncaringly, not slowing down at all.

"You're going to kill me," Race mumbled into the other boy's shoulder, feeling resigned to the fate of being killed in a motorcycle accident. He idly wandered if his mom would be more pissed that he was riding a motorcycle or upset that he had died.

"God, you're annoying," Spot remarked, "It's not like I didn't give you a helmet."

"You can hear me!" Racetrack exclaimed angrily. "And a helmet doesn't help everything. If we smash sideways into a truck I'm dead; helmet or not."

"What was that?" Sean asked, pretending as if he couldn't hear the other boy again.

"You're an ass."

"You're the one who insisted on coming with me," Sean reminded him, finally stopping the bike in front of an old building that looked as if it used to be a hotel.

"This is it?" Racetrack asked, looking amazed for a second before apparently realizing he was still on the motorcycle and jumping off the bike as fast as he could.

"You're such a little girl," Spot commented, rolling his eyes before heading into the seemingly empty building.

Racetrack followed behind grudgingly, promising himself to never get close to anything motorized that Sean was driving ever again.

* * *

"We're working on our French projects today," the teacher announced happily, "so everyone get with your partner and start planning what you want to do. Feel free to talk, but if it gets too loud I'm going to separate everyone again and give you all worksheets."

Jack rolled his eyes, knowing that no matter how loud it got the teacher wouldn't do a thing; she was too much of a pushover.

David looked across the room to find Jack, hoping that the class would get too loud and they could just do worksheets instead. Of course, he knew that would never happen; the teacher was too much of a pushover.

Jack jerked his head, signaling for David to come to him as opposed to the other way around.

David sighed, not really feeling like moving but doing it anyway, just to avoid an argument. Without farther thought he picked up his books and made his way over to Jack Kelly, slipping through all the desks in his way as gracefully as he could.

"So what do you want to do?" David asked as soon as he sat down in the seat right next to Jack.

"Do whatever you want; it's your project," Jack shrugged of, acting as if he didn't care if he got a good grade on the project.

David jerked in surprise. "_My_ project? It's _our_ project; you're doing some off this too."

"Look, it's really simple: I don't care about my grades; you do. Now, from that information I can easily form the conclusion that you're going to end up doing the project even if I don't join in. So…I'm just going to sit back and watch; this project is all you," Jack explained smugly.

David clenched his teeth in frustration. He sighed as he normally would to let go of his anger, but it didn't work nearly as well as it usually did. "You know what? Fine. If you don't care about the project then I don't either. I can pull off a passing grade if I get a zero on this, so I'm not doing it either," he declared rashly.

Jack just snorted in amusement. "It's not that hard to see that you're bluffing," he claimed with confidence.

David snorted back. "Are you sure I'm the one that's bluffing? Because I think you look a little too worried right now to hold onto the claim that this grade means nothing to you," he replied with just as much (if not more) confidence than his partner.

"You _wish_ I was bluffing," Jack shot back, "But the truth is I don't give a damn about this class. Do the project, or don't do the project; it's all the same to me."

"Good," David answered, "Because I refuse to do it, especially if you actually expect me to do it alone."

"Fine," Jack agreed, "I guess it's just not going to get done then."

* * *

"So this is your room?" Racetrack asked to make sure, looking around the large room filled to the brim with what looked like half-dead furniture. "And you actually sit on that?" he asked, pointing to a chair that looked to be once on fire.

"When I feel the need to," Spot shrugged, seeming to not catch the disgusted look the other boy threw at him. "But if those were the type of questions you wanted to ask me then we could have just stayed at school."

"Oh no," Racetrack replied back, feeling a bit more together than he had during first period, "those two questions occurred to me _after_ I got here."

"So? What do you want to know? Hopefully nothing too cliché; I'd hate for this conversation to turn boring," Spot said before plopping down on a loveseat that looked as if someone had started to try and cut it in half vertically.

"Killing someone… What's it like?" he asked with a lot more confidence than he had a few hours ago. He looked around the room hesitantly for a seat before deciding that it would be better to just remain standing.

Sean looked confused for a brief instance. "It feels like any other thing I have to do to keep my gang in working order," he answered. "How do you think it'd feel?"

"I don't know…I always thought it'd be like a wave of pure control washing over you. I mean, how much more control can you have over a person's life than when you kill them, right?" Racetrack explained.

Spot shrugged. "It's a chore, really. My life would be so much easier if they would just kill themselves. Unfortunately, I can't have everyone completely faithful to me; that'd be like asking for the sky to turn green every third day in April."

"So which rumors are true and which aren't?" Racetrack decided for his next question.

"I should think that should be painfully clear to anyone that has even a semi-working brain," Spot answered, dismissing it.

"Well, sure, most of them are, but some others are a bit harder than that. For example, have you heard the rumor that you're actually a girl? Now, obviously at first I thought it was false, but standing here looking at you now I can't be sure," Racetrack mocked.

Spot glared at the other boy before smirking when Racetrack seemed to refuse to tremble under his gaze. "Nice balls."

"Who's got nice balls?" Slingshot asked, coming into the room unannounced and without knocking.

"It disturbs me that you'd actually be interested," Spot remarked, easily dodging the question.

Slingshot just shrugged, "I'm just saying, whoever you say has nice balls must have nice balls, you know? I was only wandering who could actually get a compliment out of you."

"Nice cover up," Racetrack jumped in.

"What do you want? I assume you have a good reason for coming into my room without even knocking," Spot said, looking towards Slingshot with an annoyed look on his face.

Slingshot just shrugged, not at all deterred by his leader's snappish behavior. "I heard you were around and found myself curious as to why. Skipping school to go on a date?"

"Skipping school to answer all of an acquaintance's questions in the hopes that he'll leave me alone," Spot explained, seeming to forget that said acquaintance was in the room with them.

"Oh…harsh," Slingshot remarked, looking towards the unnamed boy to gauge his reaction. "Spot's kind of an asshole; it's to be expected," he explained with mock kindness.

"Duh," Racetrack answered, still looking disgustedly at all the old furniture.

"You better tell me it was more than curiosity that brought you up here," Spot ordered, looking angrily towards his second-in-command.

Slingshot simply shrugged again, still calm under Sean's intense glare. "I'm like a cat," he explained, not at all worried that Spot would actually punish him for walking into a room without knocking.

"Excellent," Spot grumbled, "Just get the hell out, Sling."

"Sir, yes, sir," Slingshot obeyed, jumping into attention and saluting before marching out the door.

"Are there any more stupid questions?" Spot asked Racetrack, getting back to business as soon as he guessed that Slingshot was no longer within hearing distance.

"What made you decide to join a gang of all things?"

Spot sighed, "One day I made a list of all the things I was good at. Upon looking at it a second time I realized that all of my best qualities were qualities that one would find in a leader. Then of course Brooklyn was so close to home anyway I thought, 'I might as well,' and here we are."

"I hope you know I'm not stupid enough to believe that," Racetrack answered, rolling his eyes.

"I think you misunderstood," Spot replied, "You see, that was code for 'it's none of your fucking business and I'm not going to tell you.'"

"But obviously you couldn't just say that," Racetrack explained for the other boy, "You had to lie to me in the hopes that I'd drop the subject before you had to clarify yourself."

"Are you analyzing me now?" Spot asked with annoyance, "I think I've had enough therapists and psychiatrists try to interpret why I do all the things I do; I don't need another one."

"When was that?" Racetrack asked, not believing the other boy at all. "Because I've never heard anything like that with all the rumors I've listened to."

Sean shrugged, "Another life; it's not all that important."

"Who were you before you joined that Brooklyn gang?" Racetrack asked curiously, just now realizing that Sean must have had a past that hadn't involved ruling over Brooklyn.

Spot rolled his eyes, "What a boring question. I was a normal, law-abiding kid, full of potential and nativity."

"So? What happened to make you the way you are now?"

"I grew out of it," Spot answered simply.

"Oh," Racetrack answered, positive that there was more to it than just that but knowing that the gang leader wouldn't tell him no matter how hard he pressed.

"Any more questions? Or can we go?" Spot asked, "You do realize we're going to be missing some of seventh period, right?"

"Is it that late already?" Racetrack asked before walking out of Spot's room. "Let's get going then; if I miss eighth period my mom's going to be really pissed off."

* * *

Blink sat in the corner during art class with an empty seat beside him. He quietly tapped his pencil on his canvas, looking around the room for Sean. Unfortunately the boy was nowhere to be seen and eventually Blink stopped the search, busy now wondering where Sean and Race had gone and why they were taking so long.

Had Sean done something to Racetrack?

Or was it the other way around? It could be a possibility, knowing Race.

Was it a date?

Or was Racetrack just demanding answers from the Brooklyn gang leader?

Or was it Sean demanding answers from the nosy brat who had found out about him?

Was Racetrack in danger?

Should he be concerned about his friend, or trust that Race knew what he was doing?

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that they didn't seem to be back from their lunch trip yet?

Was it weird that Blink missed Sean glaring at him in art class?

When Blink finally brought himself out of his musings he was startled to discover Sean glaring at him. "Hey," he greeted, trying to quell his surprise, "I was wondering what happened to you. You didn't kill Race did you?"

Sean shrugged uncaringly, "Not on purpose, but he was a lot more fragile than I thought."

Blink's stomach dropped and his eyes widened in shock. His mind was completely blank, and all he could concentrate on was the pure horror of what Sean had said.

Sean finally rolled his eyes, "You're so gullible. Racetrack is safe and sound in his seventh period class, learning all about how a bill becomes a law."

"You bastard," Blink hissed in amusement. "God, don't scare someone like that."

"Why the hell is he taking two social studies credits anyway? Isn't that a bit redundant?" Sean asked, changing the subject.

Blink looked thoughtful for a minute, "I guess he just likes government; I never really asked."

"Why are you in my chair?" Spot asked, as if just noticing this fact even though he had been aware since the moment he had stepped into the room.

Blink ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know. Is it a big deal?"

"Depends on what you consider a big deal," Spot explained nonchalantly, "I doubt I'd kill you for it, but I could very likely kick your ass depending upon how much the guy now sitting beside me bothers me."

"I'll sit in my regular seat tomorrow," Blink decided.

"Good idea," Spot congratulated as if the thought had never occurred to him.

* * *

"Hey Mom," Racetrack greeted as soon as he entered his eighth period a bit earlier than normal.

"How's school been so far?" the teacher asked, looking up from where she had been grading some papers.

Racetrack shrugged, "Okay, I guess. You know, same as always."

"Really? Because I heard some very interesting news from your sixth period teacher," Mrs. Higgins replied. "Would you care to explain, young man?"

"It's a long story," Racetrack tried to enlighten, "You see-"

"We'll talk about it later," the Italian teacher interrupted as the entire class seemed to wander in at the same time. "I want to see you at home as soon as you've dropped Mike and Ryan off, do you understand? I do not want you spending any more time over at their houses than you have to today."

"Yes Ma'am," Racetrack gave in easily, knowing there was no other way around the command. He quietly turned away to find his seat, all the while cursing his big-mouthed sixth period teacher.

* * *

"I hate having my mom as one of my teachers," Racetrack ranted as he took Blink and Mush home, "As if it's not enough that she has to control my life at home. No, of course she has to try and dictate my actions at school too."

Blink and Mush kept silent, knowing that their friend wanted to be allowed at least a few minutes to fume before he had to head home and face his mother again.

"I mean, the only good thing about school is that you get a few hours everyday to be away from your parents, but do I get that luxury? Ha! As if my parents would be that empathetic to my feelings," Racetrack continued angrily.

"You're welcome to stay at my house for a few hours," Mush suggested, wanting to help his friend in anyway he could.

Racetrack gave the boy a sad smile, "Thanks Mushie, but I doubt that would work. It's not like my mom wouldn't know that I was hanging out with one of you. Not only would I get into even more trouble I'm pretty sure _your_ mom would be pissed at _you_ too."

"I guess that's true," Mush admitted reluctantly before dropping the subject.

Silence followed all the way to Mush's house, where both Blink and Mush got out, thanked Race for the ride, and went into the back yard.

Racetrack sighed, pulling out of the driveway. He really didn't want to go home, no matter how much trouble he got into. Making a rash decision he decided to head into Brooklyn. His parents would never think to look for him there.


	8. After School Special

**Reposted: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough.

Summary of Chapter Seven:  
- Swifty lost the bet at the bowl alley and told Masson he pictures him naked  
- Spot admits that he knows Dutchy likes him  
- Skittery and Itey get caught in the parking lot after having sex by the vice principal  
- David tells Bumlets he's gay  
- Spot and Racetrack cut school together  
- David and Jack both declare that they aren't doing any of the French Project they're teamed up to work together on

Getting Back Together Again

**After School Special...But Not Really  
VIII**

"It's a wonder you got here without being shot at," Spot remarked nonchalantly when he ran into his classmate in the parking lot of the run down hotel he lived in.

"It's nice to see you, too, Sean," Race replied sarcastically.

"What the hell do you want anyway? I thought the questions-and-answers portion was over with," Spot said, jumping right to the point.

"They are…I guess," Racetrack assured him. "No…this isn't about that…I was kind of wondering if I could hang out here for a bit…just for a few hours."

"What? Are we suddenly friends now?" Spot asked rudely. "Go home."

"I can't," Racetrack tried to convince him. "I really just need a break from my parents, you know? Well…I guess you probably _don't_ since you don't _have_ parents, but trust me, it happens sometimes. And my mom told me to go straight home after school so I can't go to Blink or Mush's house because those are the first places she would look. Can't I just stay here for a couple of hours?"

Hunter's head popped out from beneath one of the cars in the parking lot, making Race jump slightly and Spot roll his eyes.

"You've got parents who care about you; you should be thankful," Hunter lectured. "Jesus, I'd be happy to have even a _relative_ that could _stand_ me. And you? You've got parents that love you so much they become overprotective. I'd give my arm to have what you have. Send him home, boss," Hunter advised before disappearing under the car again.

"You can't stay here; I was just leaving and I don't trust my boys not to shoot you on sight," Spot explained. "If you feel you absolutely have to I suppose I can afford to have you tag along," he offered as a second thought.

Racetrack tried to force back his smile, but failed miserably. "Really? Thanks, Sean."

"It's 'Spot' here," Sean reminded him, "Call me 'Sean' one more time while you're in Brooklyn and I'll break your arm."

"Would you really go so far as to break my arm just because I slip up and call you by the wrong name?" Racetrack asked, not quite believing him.

"The first time, yeah," Spot assured, "But you should really think of that as a friendly reminder. If you do it a second time I'll break your neck instead."

"Oh," Racetrack gaped, "Uh…right…well I'll be careful."

"Yeah, that's what the last guy said," Hunter said, popping out from under the car and managing to make Racetrack jump slightly into the air for a second time. "You know where he is now?"

"Where?" Race asked, knowing that he'd probably regret it.

"I'm not sure exactly," Hunter shrugged, "In some canal or something…or was that the second-to-last guy? The last guy might be the one that we stashed in between the drywall in the new executive building that just went up. Wait…I'm still not thinking of the right guy. Wasn't the last guy the person that we chopped up and sold to the butcher shop a couple of blocks from here? No…we killed him because we thought there was a chance he would betray us. Okay…was it the guy who we pushed off a building to make it look like suicide? No…that wasn't it either. Maybe it was the guy who…"

"He's lying out of his ass," Spot interrupted, looking at Race. "You," he continued, turning to Hunter and stomping once on his lackey's face, "Stop giving out confidential information or you'll be the new 'last guy'."

"Great," Racetrack sighed, looking a bit more than a little freaked out, "I feel so much better being here now."

"What? You assumed being in a gang was just like playing laser tag? You just have to touch them with some stupid light to make them go away?" Spot asked.

"Well…no…I just thought that I could try and pretend that you didn't…" Racetrack tried to explain, "And I never even dreamed that it would be shoved in my face like this."

"Yeah, yeah…boo woo…I kill people," Spot said uncaringly before adding, "…allegedly."

"Way to cover your tracks, Boss Man," Hunter commented before completely coming out from under the car he was once working on and stretching.

"Fine…you know what? I don't even care if you kill people…or allegedly kill people… I just want to know if you plan on killing anyone while I'm with you," Racetrack spoke up.

"Hypothetically-speaking if I was the type to kill people I probably would…but since I'm not there won't be any murder coming from me," Spot answered.

"Is there a way that I could just stay here?" Race asked.

"Alright," Spot shrugged, "You're done with the car, aren't you, Hunt?"

"Yes, sir," Hunter answered, snapping his heels together and saluting.

"Good," Spot answered while hopping onto his motorcycle, "Then make sure no one kills or tortures Race."

"What? I'm a babysitter now? Isn't that kind of demeaning?" Hunter asked, going right back into his slouching position.

"It's the only thing you're good for," Spot explained while fastening his helmet's straps together, "So just see it as 'I'm using you to the best of your abilities'."

"Thank you, sir," Hunter answered, looking touched as the motorcycled raced away.

"Suck up," Race muttered under his breath.

"Oh right," Hunter replied, catching it thanks to his excellent hearing, "As opposed to you who just beg to tag along with him. You're like a little girl with a crush. Well, let me make this very clear: the boss is as straight as a plank of wood, so don't get any ideas."

"Just what did I say that sounded like a little girl with a crush?" Race asked, looking appalled.

"'Oh, Spot, can't I just stay with you?'" Hunter imitated in a high-pitched voice.

"I said '_here_', you jackass, and I only want to stay here to avoid my parents, not to be with Spot," Racetrack pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Hunter snorted, "and what a good excuse that was. I _totally_ believed it."

"Hunter?" Slingshot asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere, "What are you doing? Torturing a new recruit?"

"No," Hunter replied indignantly, "…Torturing Spot's wanna-be boyfriend."

"I know you, don't I?" Slingshot asked, looking towards Racetrack and regarding him intently.

"You're that guy I ran into outside the racetrack," Race remembered, "You lost on Blue Colt too, right?"

"Right!" Slingshot said happily. "So what the fuck are you doing over here? Well…never mind…'Spot's wanna-be boyfriend' summed most of it up…I can decrypt Hunter's homophobic language, you see. So what are you still doing outside? Come in."

"I'm not homophobic," Hunter denied, "I just don't like fuckwits pining over the boss."

"Thanks," Racetrack replied to Slingshot, seemingly ignoring Hunter. "So how long do you think Spot will be?"

"Oh, I don't know," Slingshot shrugged nonchalantly as he led the way into the hotel all the gang members shared, "It really depends on what he's doing. I can't imagine him being too long…what with a guest and all…but at the same time he's never brought anyone home before so I could be mistaken."

"Alright, so I want to get this perfectly straight," Hunter interrupted, trailing after the two, "If you aren't the boss's wanna-be boyfriend what are you to him?"

"I don't know," Racetrack admitted, "I guess we're kind of friends…or acquaintances…or something."

"I'm afraid I'll have to count those answers as WRONG!" Hunter exclaimed happily. "The boss has allies and enemies…if you aren't either you don't even show up on his radar screen. Therefore, the very fact that you're here either means he thinks you're a threat or he thinks he can get something out of you. By the way…you better hope it's the latter because believe me when I say that most of the boss's enemies aren't around to cause him anxiety anymore…if you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid that's true," Slingshot backed up when Racetrack looked to him questioningly. "Spot doesn't invest any personal feelings on people; he sees them as tools and that's as far as any relationship with him goes."

"His parents really did a number on him," Hunter explained as they passed through a crowded, used-to-be lobby in order to go up a few flights of stairs.

"What happened?" Racetrack asked, not all that positive that he should have been asking.

"Don't let him fool you," Slingshot broke in, "Hunter doesn't know anything about Spot's life before he entered the gang; no one does. In fact no one even seems to know _when_ he joined up with the Brooklyn gang. Spot keeps personal matters as private as you can get them; no one knows anything about his life away from the gang."

"What? Are you saying you think his parents _didn't_ do a number on him? I believe whole-heartedly that he's a good leader and everything, but I also believe that the only reason he _is_ a good leader is because he's so fucked up in the head. Who else could do that to him if not his parents?" Hunter asked.

"I wasn't technically disagreeing with you, I was just pointing out the fact that it's all guesses and assumptions on your part," Slingshot explained, finally stopping on a floor and choosing to go into a room with a makeshift kitchen off to one side, an old couch shoved against one wall, and three bunk beds lined up in a row.

"This is our room," Hunter boasted. "We share it with Speed (the man in charge of transportation), Gadget (the man in charge of repairs), Bam (the man in charge of weaponry), and Stealth (the man in charge of overlooking the other gangs)."

"Isn't it a bit small for six people?" Racetrack asked after quickly doing the math in his head.

"Nah, this is big," Slingshot explained, "This hotel is packed full of gang members who would be out on the street without it so no one really complains all that much."

"So what made you decide to join a gang?" Racetrack asked, genuinely curious.

Hunter snorted at both the kid's stupidity and balls, "I wouldn't ask that question here; everyone's pasts are a little bit too shady for them to want to talk openly about it. Let's just say the Brooklyn gang and Spot are saviors to nearly everyone here."

"But," he said after a view moments of thought, "I don't really mind telling _my_ story; it's pretty tame compared to the rest of the story's floating around. You see, my mom had an affair right before she married her husband; I'm the son of the guy she had the affair with. She planned on keeping it a secret, but unfortunately I looked nothing like my fake father or my mother and people jumped onto the truth pretty quickly. Once everything was out in the open my family decided that it'd be better to start from scratch and put me up for adoption. It was only a few weeks at the foster home before I got too bored and ran away. Shortly after that I found the Brooklyn gang, proved my loyalty to Spot, and _boom_, here I am."

"It was a slightly different story for me," Slingshot said, jumping in right after. "Both of my parents were killed on the road. My dad was driving home after drinking too much and crashed into an office building. They were both killed instantly and with no will made up the state took everything. Obviously not trusting the state with my life I decided to try and make it on my own. It was about two weeks into begging on the streets when I realized I was probably going to die. A day later I met Spot and even though he was a year my junior (and looked a lot younger than that), when he told me he'd take care of me if I followed his instructions I trusted him."

Now Racetrack wasn't raised in a plastic bubble; he was quite aware that these things happened and he wasn't really surprised by the unfortunate circumstances both guys had to go through. What absolutely shocked him, however, was the fact that these two (and probably many more) regarded Spot as a savior.

* * *

"So have you seen Masson yet?" Jack asked, hitting his ball with the croquet mallet much too hard and drastically missing his hoop.

"Kind of, but he didn't talk to me; he just looked at me strangely and then left me alone," Swifty said, hitting his ball through the next hoop perfectly and gaining himself an extra turn.

"You realize I never expected you to actually tell Masson you pictured him naked, right? I mean, I would have been fine if you had refused," Jack confessed, feeling a little guilty about the situation he put his friend in.

"Yeah, I never expected you to get a strike. …But it'll all blow over soon enough," Swifty shrugged.

"Wow…you're being surprisingly okay with all of this," Jack pointed out before beginning to take his turn.

Swifty shrugged again, "Ah well…I'm kind of over this whole 'popular' thing anyway; it's been getting a little old."

This time Jack missed his ball completely. "What are you talking about? You can't actually be making a conscious decision about dropping out of the popular clique. You realize no one has ever done that before, right?"

"I don't know, I'm just getting tired of the whole thing," Swifty confessed, leaning against his mallet.

"What about it is tiring? I don't understand," Jack replied, "We're your _friends_; you can't just decide to _quit_."

"Right," Swifty snorted. "_You're_ my friend, Jack," he corrected, "Everyone else wouldn't be too upset to not talk to me anymore. They don't really value my witty conversations to begin with. The only reason I'm allowed to breath the same air as them is because I'm a good runner."

"So what's your plan? Quit track just so people won't have an excuse to talk to you? Why the hell would you do that if you love track?" Jack asked, entirely confused about the whole situation.

"But that's just it," Swifty pointed out, "I _don't_ love track. It's getting old and…boring…and if I want to get any better at school I have to quit in order to have more time to study. Then of course, if I quit track I won't have anything to talk to anyone else about, since the only thing the rest of the sport freaks and I have in common is the fact that I run track. In other words, I'd rather just cut the string and sever my ties instead of quitting track and then struggling for days or even weeks to find other common ground with people I don't even _like_ very much."

"Oh," Jack answered, not really knowing what to say.

"Eloquent," Swifty mock complimented before finally taking his turn.

"Why'd you pick croquet to play anyway?" Jack asked, consciously changing to a more light-hearted subject. "You hate croquet."

"Well yeah, but I rock at it," Swifty explained. "Plus," he added, not dropping his indifferent attitude, "My grandfather taught me how to play and today is the anniversary of the day he died."

"Well…so much for my goal to lighten up the tone of our conversation," Jack mumbled, mostly talking to himself but making sure that Swifty could hear.

"Oh," Swifty replied, "Is _that_ what you were trying to do? Here, let me try: did you get assigned your French project partner yet?"

"Yeah, I got paired with David," Jack said with some irritation in his voice as he managed to practically hit his ball parallel to the hoop.

"Isn't that a good thing? It'll be a little awkward at first, I'm sure, but you can probably get him to do all the work pretty easily," Swifty shrugged before getting ready to take his turn.

"That's the whole thing!" Jack exclaimed, "He's refused to do _any_ of the project."

"Are you sure? That doesn't sound like David. Well…not that I would exactly know from first hand experience anymore, but… It doesn't seem like something he would do," Swifty commented, not truly believing his friend.

"Don't ask me," Jack commanded, taking his turn and failing to come even close to his hoop again. "I told him I wouldn't do the project, then he got all pissy and said that he wasn't doing it either."

"Well, _duh_," Swifty rolled his eyes as everything seemed to click into place, "Of _course_ he's going to get angry if you say you aren't going to help him before anything else even happens. Go apologize and ask him if you could do it together, as originally planned."

"You actually believe I'd do something like that? David's going to cave like the good little boy he is," Jack said confidently.

"You better hope so," Swifty replied, "Because with a zero on that project there's no way you can pass the semester."

"Worry about yourself," Jack demanded. "After all, you're the one with the new kid as his partner."

* * *

"I can't believe you got caught having sex in the school parking lot," Dutchy exclaimed.

"I can honestly tell you it ruined the atmosphere," Skittery replied.

"Of course," Itey agreed, "The vice principal isn't the most attractive person around."

"Well," Bumlets replied, "I certainly wouldn't ever want to see his face during sex…or after…or before…or at all really."

They were in Skittery's den, doing what they normally did after school: anything but homework. Skittery and Itey were leaning into each other on the love seat while Dutchy and Bumlets each covered one side of the couch, sitting a cushion apart. They were waiting until Skittery's parents got home, at which time they would leave and find somewhere else to hang out.

"So I got this great idea," Dutchy broke in, looking pleased with himself.

"I bet ten dollars it isn't," Skittery replied.

"I'll add a ten to his bet," Itey backed up, nodding over to Skittery.

"I'm in for ten; Dutchy's ideas reek so much _flies_ won't go near them," Bumlets said.

"They suck more than a whore," Itey tried out.

"Sorry," Skittery said when everyone looked over at him, expecting him to add on to the insults, "I'm not any good at clever insults. I liked the whore comment though; that was a nice touch, babe."

"Thanks," Itey beamed before starting to make out with Skitts.

"It's not a stupid idea," Dutchy declared indignantly even though he was pretty positive no one was listening at this point.

"Fine, I give in," Bumlets declared, "I'm probably going to regret asking this but… What's your great idea?"

"We design a series of tests to determine if Sean's gay or not," Dutchy announced proudly.

"Now that _is_ stupid," Bumlets replied, seeming shocked by how stupid the idea was.

"Seriously, how stupid can your stupid level drop before you die because you forget how to breathe?" Skittery asked, breaking away from Itey's mouth to do so.

"How many gallons of paint do you have to sniff in order to be as stupid as Dutchy?" Itey piped up.

"They don't make enough," Skittery replied. "How many times do you have to pound your head into the wall to be as idiotic as Dutchy?"

"Until there's a substantial dent," Bumlets answered. "How moronic do you have to be to lose a debate to Dutchy?"

"Impossible," Skittery called out happily. "How brainless do you have to be to-"

"I get it; it's a stupid idea," Dutchy interrupted, "I got it, okay? Can you guys all shut up now?"

"So you won't do it then?" Bumlets asked to make sure.

"Of course I'm doing it. It's a _fantastic_ idea; everyone's just been smoking too much pot to realize it," Dutchy replied.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure," Skittery quietly said to Itey, "But am I correct in saying 'That was one of the most ironic things I have ever heard in my entire life'?"

"Seems to adequately describe the situation; yes," Itey answered in a proud tone

* * *

David was (against his better judgment) hanging out with Specs as if nothing had ever happened. Of course at this point in time he was ready to tell Specs the truth (largely thanks to Bumlets) so it wasn't exactly the same. Unfortunately another side of David still kept trying to talk himself out of it, and with Specs being Specs it would be very easy to let that side win.

"So no homework today, eh? I have to say that you have _no_ idea how much of a relief that is," Specs said, breaking the awkward silence, "I mean it's weird and slightly creepy that you aren't doing yours, but I can't say I'm disappointed."

They were sitting on Specs' bedroom floor, listening to some pop music radio station, and concentrating on the tenseness in the air.

…The last of which was not a very good idea…especially for David.

"So I had coffee with Dutchy a few days ago…you can guess how awkward _that_ conversation was," Specs confessed, not really sure why there was tension but feeling it nonetheless.

"I'm gay," David admitted, trying to force indifference into his voice but managing to squeak anyway.

Specs was quiet for a minute. "Hm…yeah…right…of course you are," he laughed, "Oh, and did I tell you? My grandmother came to town to tell me that I was King of France."

"Seriously," David reinforced with some difficulty, "I am."

"Right, right, and I'm the King of France," Specs continued in a patronizing tone.

"Specs," David said in a stronger voice, "I am."

Specs combed a hand through his hair, "Sorry man, I can't believe that. Sexually frustration? Definitely. Bi-curious? Perhaps. Gay? No way in hell. You're my best friend; I think I would know if you were a fag…er…gay…rainbow-twirler…you know…whatever it is that those people are calling themselves these days."

"Specs," David repeated angrily, tackling his friend to the floor and straddling him. "I am gay. Want to have me prove it?" he asked, bending his face closer to his friend's.

"Oh my god!" Specs exclaimed in a panic, "I knew it! You _do_ have a crush on me!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" David asked, getting up and rubbing his right temple in an attempt to ward off an incoming headache. "Why is it that I'm either not gay at all or I have a crush on you?"

"I'm a sexy guy, Dave," Specs explained with ill-hidden arrogance. "It's only natural for people to want me."

"Oh yeah," David said, rolling his eyes and deciding he had enough. "All the gay boys want your ass," he declared before leaving.

* * *

"Don't go in there, you moron!" Blink shouted at the television screen.

"Blink, they can't here you," Mush reminded his friend again with amusement evident in his voice.

"I know," Blink admitted, burying himself into his friend's chest, "but that doesn't stop the fact that she shouldn't go in there; it's a horror movie rule that the one who goes looking for a dead body will end up dead themselves."

Mush laughed, "You don't ever watch horror movies; how would you know?"

"Oh, I _know_," Blink ensured with confidence.

Mush was atop his bed while Blink was half on the bed and half on Mush. They were both watching a horror movie they had somehow stumbled upon.

"I didn't think you even liked horror movies," Mush pointed out, smiling at Blink in amusement.

"I don't, but one every once in awhile is needed," Blink replied with authority.

"How do you figure?"

"It works on steeling your resolve and lessens your need to vomit," Blink lectured, "And a good scare every once in awhile is kind of fun."

"The gore's a little too much for me," Mush admitted, "I don't like to see all that blood."

"Well yeah, but that's what horror movies teach you; how to turn your back and feel nothing with blood and guts all around you," Blink explained.

"But if I ever found myself in a situation that was anything like a horror movie I'd rather act like a normal person than some twisted convict or something," Mush replied.

"I guess that's true," Blink admitted, "But you'd look really cool playing it all nonchalant and stuff."

"I suppose," Mush relented a bit. "But at the same time you'd have to be at least halfway crazy to pull it off."

Blink chuckled, now ignoring the movie in favor of his friend, "I can't imagine you being even a little crazy; you're way too level headed."

"Thanks," Mush replied with a smile before turning back to the movie and ending the conversation.

"Wait, did that girl die already? Rewind; I completely missed it," Blink ordered.

* * *

"Hey Hunter, Slingshot, and person-I-don't-know," greeted someone, walking into the room and throwing what looked like a cell phone on the bottom bunk Racetrack was currently sitting on.

"Hey Bam, this is Racetrack and vice versa," Slingshot introduced.

"Yo. Bam, head of weaponry, nineteen years old, roommate of Slingshot's and Hunter's, and person whose bed you are currently sitting on," Bam greeted happily.

"Oh sorry," Racetrack said, standing up. "I'm Racetrack, a friend of Spot's."

Bam blinked once before saying, "But Spot doesn't have friends."

"Yeah, really he meant to say that he goes to the same school as Spot and developed a crush on him," Hunter rephrased for Racetrack.

"That makes a little more sense then," Bam replied, "Spot is kind of pretty like a girl."

"_You_ of all people shouldn't be comparing me to a girl, Beautiful," Spot smirked from the doorway.

"Cut it out with the 'beautiful' crap, 'kay Boss? As if it's not hard enough being taken seriously without everyone thinking we're some kind of gay lovers or something," Bam replied, looking irritated as Hunter didn't go out of his way to hide his chuckles.

"Stop telling people you've never met before that I look like a girl and maybe I will," Spot bargained.

"So how was your trip?" Slingshot asked, eager to get down to business.

"Enlightening," Spot answered, "but nothing too bad. Make sure to remind me to congratulate Stealth for the tip off. Also, get Gadget to see if he can squeeze out a couple more miles per hour on my bike."

"On it, sir," Slingshot replied before leaving the room.

"What about my congratulations?" Hunter spoke up, "I watched the kid like a pro."

"I have to say I _am_ surprised he isn't dead," Spot admitted. "But watching a kid your own age is more of a show of competence rather than a challenge," he added before walking out the door. "You coming, Anthony?" he asked over his shoulder.

"It's Racetrack," Race reminded him before quickly catching up to him. "So how much did you hear while you were at the door? Because I don't really have a crush on you, that's just what Hunter said. I know you might not believe me, but-"

"Calm down," Spot ordered, "Hunter thinks the stray dog that sometimes comes around here for food has a crush on me; I don't really take anything he says seriously anymore."

"So why did you have to go out?" Racetrack asked with curiosity.

"I just had to remind a few gang members from Queens where the Brooklyn territory line begins," Spot explained nonchalantly. "I did it more because I wanted a good fight than because the situation called for it."

"Wow, you don't look like you just fought," Racetrack tried to compliment.

"It wasn't the good fight I was looking for," Spot shrugged.

"So where are we going now? Are you leaving again?" Racetrack asked as they reached the first floor of the apartment and started walking outside.

"It's you who's going," Spot replied, "And you better be grateful. I have everything set up so you won't get in trouble with your dearest mother."

"How's that?" Racetrack asked, not all that confident that whatever plan Spot had come up with would work.

"I called her and asked if I could have your help with my Current Events homework," Spot explained, "She's expecting you in forty minutes, but it's okay if you're a bit late."

"And how did you manage to do that?" Racetrack asked in awe.

"I have a very persuasive voice," Spot claimed.

"You threatened her?" Racetrack shouted in outrage.

"No," Spot replied, looking affronted. "I asked her politely if you could; she said 'yes'." He smirked, "She thinks I'm a good kid."

Racetrack rolled his eyes as he got into his car; his mother never was a very good judge of character, but he expected her to be a bit better than this.

"Try not to come back anytime soon," Spot said, "You're too much work."

"I'll remember that," Racetrack answered before driving away.

"I wouldn't encourage him, boss," Hunter said, appearing right behind Spot, "He's got the biggest crush on you."

Spot mock-sighed before sarcastically replying, "Yeah, but who doesn't? I'm too irresistible for words."


	9. Bumlets Is Not Gay

**Reposted: 4-12-08**

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Summary of Chapter Eight:  
-Racetrack came to Brooklyn to see Spot  
-Racetrack learned of Hunter's and Slingshot's pasts  
-Swifty decided to quit track  
-Dutchy decides to test Spot's 'gayness'  
-David tried to convince Specs that he's gay and ended up coming onto him  
-Bam (head of weapons) is introduced  
-Racetrack's mom decides she likes Spot

Getting Back Together Again

**IX**  
**Bumlets Is Not Gay...Really  
**

"Maybe a dictionary…or an encyclopedia," Itey mumbled practically under his breath to Skittery.

"It'll take more than just a dictionary or an encyclopedia…or even both," Skittery answered back with the same volume, "Those are for amateurs anyway. What if we lock him up in a room with Ben Stein for a couple years?"

"Poor Ben would probably commit suicide and the world would be down another genius," Itey replied, crushing the idea.

"Maybe we should just kill him," Skittery suggested. "I don't think anything else will work."

"What are you two talking about? Or do I even want to know?" Bumlets asked, interrupting his friends' conversation.

"We're planning on boosting the world's average IQ by thirty points by killing off Dutchy," Skittery answered with nonchalance.

"We thought about just trying to make Dutchy more intelligent, but then we decided that it would result in too many deaths," Itey added.

All three turned to look at Dutchy who was writing intently in a small notebook and currently being oblivious to the world going on around him.

"That'd be okay with me," Bumlets consented before inhaling some tobacco from his cigarette, "Just be sure it's a painless death. I think he'd like that."

Skittery sighed before changing the subject, "When's the weekend? School is getting way too boring."

"Eh, it's better with Sean around though," Dutchy finally broke in, still scribbling down in his notebook.

"You're completely obsessed with Sean and it's starting to seriously creep me out," Bumlets replied, meaning every word.

"Can you believe it's only Wednesday morning?" Itey asked in response to Skittery, "You'd think school would be a little more exciting since they found us skipping to have sex, but it's just the same old shit."

"I'm not obsessed," Dutchy insisted to Bumlets.

"Oh please, don't act like you weren't about to piss your pants while we were in the vice principal's office; you were freaking out," Skittery reminded Itey before he took a hit off his cigarette.

"Yeah, 'obsessed' is a huge understatement," Bumlets claimed.

"Well of course I was scared; you kept trying to make it _worse_," Itey responded before taking a hit off of his own cigarette.

"Why does everyone keep saying I'm too hung up over Sean?" Dutchy asked, finally looking up from his notebook.

"I was trying to make things a bit more exciting," Skittery told Itey, "I thought you would appreciate it, but apparently I don't know you as well as I thought I did. You're a disappointment."

"Because you are," Bumlets insisted to Dutchy, "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to discover that you follow him around to pick up all the dead skin cells and hairs he leaves behind in order to start making a shrine."

"Things were exciting enough already," Itey said, "You need to know when to draw the line. Also, the fact that you just called me a disappointment kind of hurts and I don't appreciate it at all."

"Ew," Dutchy replied to Bumlets, "That's gross and creepy and I'd miss too many of my classes. Believe me; I will never, ever, in a million years go that far."

"Sorry, babe. You know I love you no matter what," Skittery promised Itey.

"You guys are way too lively for a Wednesday morning," Spot commented as he came up in front of them before putting a filtered cigarette in his mouth and lighting up. "Tone it down before you give me a headache."

"Where's your bike?" Skittery asked, looking around the parking lot for it, "I didn't even hear it."

"I've got a guy working on it to make it go a little faster," Spot replied, "So I got dropped off around the back of the school."

"How fast does it go now?" Skittery questioned.

"About a hundred," Spot answered with a shrug.

Skittery beamed, "You're so hardcore, man."

"Do I have to remind you that he's not the one you fuck around with?" Itey interrupted when he caught Skittery drooling.

"Do you know who wrote 'I Will Survive'?" Dutchy asked out of nowhere, still studying his notebook.

"What is that? A book?" Spot asked, not really seeming to care.

Dutchy frowned before marking a very distinguishable 'X' that covered the entire piece of paper. Without another word he walked away, mumbling under his breath.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Spot asked, looking confused as he watched Dutchy walk away.

"He was dropped on his head as a kid a lot by his parents," Bumlets answered.

"His parents are actually monkeys," Skittery explained.

"He drank one too many gallons of bleach," Itey retorted.

"Got it," Spot answered before walking away with his cigarette.

"Where are you going?" Itey yelled out to him.

"I've got to make a phone call," Spot answered back.

"Just don't call any scientists," Skittery commanded, "Dutchy may be stupid but we love him like our own little retarded child and we don't want anyone to take him away from us."

"I won't," Spot promised before turning around the corner to the back of the school and disappearing from view.

"So you think that was one of Dutchy's tests to decipher whether Sean is gay or not?" Bumlets asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, Dutchy, you little retarded bastard," Skittery said sarcastically, shaking his head in shame.

"Who _did_ write 'I Will Survive'?" Itey asked, curious because he couldn't remember.

"Fuck if I know," Skittery admitted.

"Aretha Franklin," Bumlets reluctantly mumbled under his breath.

"Hah!" Itey cried out, pointing his finger at Bumlets, "You _are_ a gay man!"

* * *

"Using Speed to deliver your messages now?" Spot asked as soon as the phone was picked up on the other end.

"Sorry boss, but I forgot to tell you yesterday and you weren't around when I went to bed," Slingshot's voice said.

"So? What is it you want that couldn't wait until I got home?"

"Well…this might be a little late but I kind of wanted to get the day off today. You see I kind of wanted to take the chance to hang out with my cousin and I don't really want him to physically see what kind of work I do," Slingshot explained.

"You have a cousin?" Spot asked, torn between indifference and confusion. "I thought you didn't have any family left."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Slingshot admitted, "But if turns out I've got this relative who's like this second cousin or step-second cousin or something too difficult to really decipher. Anyway, he mailed me a letter yesterday asking if we could meet today. So? Can we?"

"I don't like the idea of you going out when I haven't had any time to plan for it," Spot divulged. "But if you stay in or near the apartment in case I need you I guess I can handle the day without you."

"Really? Thanks Boss Man!" Slingshot happily replied, "I'm sorry to skip out so last minute."

"Well…family's family, right? True, I'll probably never see what most people see in them, but apparently they're really important," Spot said in an indifferent voice before hanging up the school payphone and rushing to his first period class.

* * *

"Hey," Racetrack greeted as he sat down in his first period seat.

Spot grunted back, already missing the fact that Racetrack used to be afraid of him. "We're still not friends…just to be clear."

"I'm being polite," Racetrack explained, "It's not like a expect a hug or something."

"Good, because I don't give out hugs," Spot replied with a small amount of irritation in his voice.

"My mom was raving about you all last night," Racetrack confessed, now finding the whole thing rather amusing, "What exactly did you say to her? She usually doesn't like any of my friends. She absolutely _hates_ Blink and Mush; she thinks they're a bad influence on me."

"I didn't do anything," Spot shrugged, "Just stroked her ego and acted like a suck-up. You better not come back into Brooklyn and have me do it again, though; that was a one time thing."

"I know, I know," Racetrack brushed off. "I'm too much work, right? Plus, my mom's been in brighter spirits since she talked to you. She even let me off the hook for skipping class yesterday because I said I was with you." He chuckled quietly, "I can't believe the leader of Brooklyn is the embodiment of a good kid for my mother. You can't say you don't find that at least a little funny."

Spot shrugged, "I've never met your mother, and it's a pretty common reaction of parents who have just met me so it's not really anything of a surprise."

"Wait…parents usually _like_ you?" Racetrack asked in shock. "You're lying."

"I can't believe you're surprised," Spot answered, still apathetic to the conversation.

"You came in here on your first day of school and made a comment about Tracey's breasts," Racetrack reminded him. "How can you even think you're anywhere _near_ being a good kid?"

"Jesus, you're stupid," Spot said, "I'm not saying I _am_ a good kid. Fuck, you don't have to be a good kid to get parents to like you. You just have to be a good actor."

"So do you make it a habit to suck up to kids' parents?" Racetrack asked, finding the subject even funnier now knowing that Spot became a suck-up just for him.

"I make it a habit of getting what I want," Spot corrected, "If that means pretending to be a brownnoser I'll do it. If it means blackmailing, threatening, lying…anything…I'll do it so I can get what I want in the end."

"So I'm thinking you didn't grow up with a strong moral foundation," Racetrack declared.

"Yeah," Spot admitted, "But I'm guessing you _did_, and since you're the one who seems to like to gamble so much I think it's safe to assume it doesn't really matter."

* * *

"So then Itey said the cutest thing," Skittery gushed, covering his mouth and giggling like a little girl.

"I realize you're just making up this story to make me uncomfortable," Bumlets pointed out, "And it worked for awhile, I'll admit that, but lately it's all just like white noise."

"Last weekend I gave Itey a rim job, then stripped him down and spanked him on your kitchen table," Skittery tried out, "You wouldn't believe how hard I got just from all the noises he made. After that he sucked me off and then I got his dick rammed up my ass until he blew his load."

"That must have been the same time I was eating your mother's pussy," Bumlets replied in a completely monotonous voice.

"Ew! Ew! Ew!" Skittery acclaimed, "Do you know how vulgar of a mental picture that was? And how ashamed I am of you? Don't ignore your gayness, Bum, that's just wrong and it'll make Andy Warhol frown down on you from Gay Heaven.

"Oh, forgive me, Andy," Bumlets mocked, "From this day forward I promise to only suck guys, so don't kill me by making me watch your films!"

"Hey! I like Andy Warhol's films!" Swifty interrupted before sitting down in front of Bumlets and sitting backwards in his chair.

"We're attracting people! First Sean and now him!" Skittery cried out, purposely overplaying his shock. "It must be this new cologne I've been wearing; it's supposed to attract all the boys."

"It must be," Bumlets agreed, "In fact, I've been meaning to jump you lately."

"Now, now, it's best not to make Itey jealous," Skittery replied, "But I'm sure you can jump Swifty if you can't control yourself around me."

"Uh…I'd rather you not; I'm straight," Swifty answered, pulling his face back a bit and holding up his hands.

Skittery and Bumlets looked at him expectantly for a few moments before Skittery broke the silence, "Man, I thought that'd make him leave."

"Apparently your cologne works better than we thought," Bumlets suggested, "I wouldn't wear it tomorrow; the last thing we need is another moron coming up to us and telling us he how much he likes Andy Warhol movies."

"Come on, guys. Is that anyway to talk to a friend you haven't spoken to in over two years?" Swifty asked, surprised at their dynamic. Bumlets used to always be so quiet and Skittery would have never used the word 'vulgar' before. "So what? Are you two going out now? I have to say I never would have expected it."

Skittery chuckled as Bumlets rolled his eyes.

"I'm straight," Bumlets replied. "Skittery and Itey are the ones going out; have you been living in a closet for the past year? They don't really keep their affection for each other a secret."

"Really? I thought that was just some stupid running joke of the potheads," Swifty replied, "You mean they actually _are_ going out?"

"What are you doing over here anyway?" Skittery asked. "Have you been banished to the pothead's clique or something? I know everyone thinks we accept anyone, and we normally do, but we're making an exception for you."

"I'm quitting track," Swifty replied, "And without track I don't really have anything to talk to the other jocks about. Don't worry, it's not like I'm going to be all buddy-buddy with you guys now or anything. It's just that the only other people in this class I know at all besides the jocks I usually sit with is you guys."

"So you just decided you'd sit with us from now on and we'd be so thankful of your presence we'd put up with it?" Skittery questioned. "You obviously don't know us very well."

"What the hell's up your ass?" Swifty snapped. "I thought you'd at least treat me civilly. Remember when we used to be friends?"

"Yeah," Bumlets piped up. "Remember when you stopped talking to us after your first day of track practice?"

"Remember when we came up to you in the hall to congratulate you on your first win and you acted like a complete and utter dick?" Skittery added.

"Remember when Masson used everyday of his existence to make fun of us and you just went right along with it?" Bumlets inquired.

"Ah, what fun memories," Skittery said.

"Oh please," Swifty retorted, rolling his eyes, "Like you've never made fun of the jocks, or acted like you didn't know me, or treated me like a piece of shit. Plus, I thought we were above all that. I thought everyone understood that we'd still be friends and allies if we needed each other."

"I didn't get that memo," Bumlets answered, "Exactly when did we agree on this? Was it before or after you decided not to ever talk to us again?"

"Man, you guys can really hold a grudge, can't you? Look, I'm sorry," Swifty replied, "It's not like I really meant any of it anyway."

"Oh, well if it didn't really _mean_ anything then all is forgiven," Skittery sarcastically brushed off.

"Go eat shit," Bumlets commanded before turning to Skittery and doing his best to ignore his old friend.

Skittery stuck his tongue out at Swifty before quickly following Bumlets' example.

* * *

"Itey!" Skittery exclaimed as soon as he found his beloved in third period math.

"Skittery!" Itey exclaimed in much the same fashion before rushing in on him and giving him a hug.

"What do you think would happen if we skipped out on the rest of the school day?" Skittery asked quietly in Itey's ear. "Seriously, I've already met my limit on the patience I've set aside to get me through the school day. If I go another minute I think I'll explode."

"Bad first two periods?" Itey asked in a concerned voice as they went to sit down next to each other in their assigned seats.

"God, yes," Skittery sighed. "First my computer teacher was a bitch and kept criticizing the way I typed even though I was doing the _exact_ same thing as everyone else. Then, in English, Swifty came up to Bumlets and me and tried to pretend like we were still best friends."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Skittery answered, "I mean, she's usually a bitch, but today she was even worse than normal. Maybe she was on the rag. Or it might be menopause; she's seems old enough for that to be an issue. Either way she's got to go find herself some type of medication."

Itey smiled, "I meant why did Swifty come up to you and Bumlets in English class. I kind of assumed you'd blame your teacher's bitchiness on the menstrual cycle some how. You always do, even if the teacher's a guy."

"I don't know. How do you expect me to know what the hell Swifty's thinking? He said he quit the track team and wanted to hang out with us…or something stupid like that. I started tuning him out after I remembered that I think he's a prick," Skittery replied.

"C'mon Skitts," Itey tried to persuade, "Don't you think you could stand being a _little_ nicer to our old friends? Call me a nostalgic idiot, but I've always felt that the connection we all once had is stronger than just some stupid high school cliques."

"That's what Swifty said," Skittery admitted. "And I used to think that too…right up until everyone separated to go to separate stupid high school cliques. Seriously Itey, dear, it's already happened. Are you just going to write it off like everyone just agreed on a small break from each other? I didn't think your head was so up in the clouds."

"It's more like my head's been up your ass," Itey corrected.

"You _do_ give fantastic rim jobs," Skittery complimented happily.

"So first Sean talks to us, then Swifty tries to," Itey pointed out, going back to the former topic, "What's going on? You think it's your new cologne? It _is_ supposed to attract all the boys."

"That's what I originally thought, but Bumlets just assumed I was kidding," Skittery replied. "…Either that, or he really _does_ want to jump me, so we better hope he was joking."

"You _better_ hope he was joking," Itey answered, "because if he wasn't I'm going to be really pissed the hell off."

"Bet that would be awkward," Skittery pondered, "…Having sex with my fuck buddy's old crush that I used to get jealous of and who's supposed to be straight. It sounds like some really bad gay soap opera, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Itey agreed, "It kind of does. Then, following the true role of a soap opera I would become jealous and in a rage I would try to kill you while revealing that I'm pregnant with your baby."

"But instead of killing me you'd make me fall into a coma for about half the season," Skittery continued, "Then, on awaking from said coma I'd be found to have forgotten everything about my old life with you, though I'd remember all about Bumlets."

"But at that point I'd be the one happily with Bumlets. We'd be married and raising your and my child together," Itey finished.

"So obviously if I ever fucked around with Bumlets it would result in pandemonium," Skittery pointed out.

"Right," Itey agreed, nodding his head, "And if you never want to be caught in a bad gay soap opera I wouldn't even think about it."

"It's not so much the bad gay soap opera that I'm worried about, but rather the fact that in the end I'd forget you," Skittery replied with a grin.

Itey beamed before tackling Skittery to the floor and receiving the attention from everyone in their third period Algebra class. "You are so fucking incredible…and sweet…and I don't even know what to do with myself right now."

"How about getting yourself and your friend to the principal's office," Mr. Wisel suggested, "Now, gentleman."

"Yes sir," Itey agreed, getting up from the floor before helping Skittery do the same.

It wasn't until they got out the door and into the hallway that either said anything.

"I hope you realize we're going to get in trouble again," Skittery unnecessarily pointed out.

Itey shrugged, "It was worth it. Plus, you'll get some more excitement now, right?"

"Just don't be a sniveling brownnoser this time and I'll be happier than a retard who just found something shiny," Skittery replied.

"You are so offensive," Itey observed with a smile on his lips.

* * *

"I told Specs I was gay and then I accidentally hit on him," David confessed as he slumped down in his seat.

"How can you _accidentally_ hit on someone?" Bumlets asked. "If you're that sexually frustrated I would suggest masturbation."

"No, it wasn't anything like that," David tried to explain. "I told him I was gay and he didn't believe me and he was just getting so irritating I wanted to shut him up and scare him or something and I just went a little overboard…I shouldn't have ever done it and I'm so grossed out at myself right now…of all the people to hit on…I hit on _Specs_? What's _wrong_ with me? First, he's completely sadistic. Second, he's already got a _huge_ ego…I don't need to make it any bigger by _flirting_ with him…or…or whatever it is I did."

"Well," Bumlets replied in an indifferent voice, "If you're anything like the old David, the fact that you've just created a very blatant run-on sentence means you're really freaking out over this."

"Yes," David agreed while nodding his head, "I really am. And what's worse is the fact that _this_ is how I'm trying to stand up for myself. By trying to scare Specs and shut him up with shock. I mean…what kind of person does that make _me_? I'm like some common bully with self-esteem problems. I don't want to be a bully, Bumlets, I really don't. But what's even worse than that is the fact that even though I know I should apologize to Specs I really, _really_ don't want to. …Which, of course, makes me probably the worst person in the history of the universe and-"

"No offense," Bumlets interrupted, "And I mean, really, no offense, because this is probably going to torment you for awhile and you need to know I'm only saying it for your benefit. First, you talk a bit too much and it gets a little hard to handle sometimes. Second, and most importantly, you resemble a doormat in every conceivable fashion."

"How is that supposed to benefit me?" David asked, trying to pretend he wasn't hurt by what Bumlets said.

"I'm making you aware of it in the hopes that you'll try and improve yourself," Bumlets explained. He sighed before going on, "Look, you aren't a bully. There's a very clear line between sticking up for yourself and trying to make others feel bad. Specs was being a prick, you lashed out; it's a natural thing to do."

"So you don't think it was too mean?" David asked, "But you do think I should apologize, right? Because what I said to him and…and…_did_ to him was too over the line, right?"

"You stood up for yourself Davy," Bumlets reminded him, "There's nothing to apologize for. Politeness is all well and good but it needs to be chucked out if you're just going to use it as an excuse to bottle up anger."

"So I should just say what I think no matter what? Like…I should tell you you're an asshole for insulting me in order to teach me a lesson," David tried out before ducking out, "I mean…I understand perfectly why you did it and I'm sure you have even more reasons than that and I really shouldn't have questioned it because I'm sure you know what you're doing and-"

"That was…close," Bumlets interrupted, "If you would have left off that last part it would have been perfect."

"There's no way I could ever do that to Specs," David confessed, "Yesterday afternoon was just a fluke…a tantrum from everything of his I've ever had to put up with and now that it's gone I'm not going to be able to do something like that for another seventeen years."

"At least try," Bumlets persuaded, "You don't have to shout or stamp your feet or anything like that. You just have to let Specs know that he's been an asshole; just take him down a few pegs."

"Right," David agreed with hesitation, "He's so far up as it is…dropping a few pegs couldn't hurt, right?"

* * *

"Do you have a small dog?" Dutchy asked Spot before even sitting down at their lunch table.

"What? Like those annoying yappy dogs?" Spot asked from his chair. "Hell no."

"Hey," Skittery jumped in with a very obvious smirk on his face, "You know who used to have a small dog?"

"Why, no, I do not," Itey responded, knowing very well who Skittery was talking about it.

"Shut the hell up," Bumlets interrupted, "It wasn't even mine; it was my mom's. Therefore it doesn't count."

"Yeah, of course, it was your _mom's_ dog," Itey sarcastically agreed.

"…You were just the one that had to feed it, walk it, take it to the vet, and housetrain it," Skittery finished.

"Not to mention the fact that you played with it all the time and had it sleep at the foot of your bed," Itey added.

"Remember how it used to follow you around everywhere?" Skittery asked.

"It was so, so, so _cute_," Itey said in a high-pitched voice.

"So no small dogs, uh? Ever?" Dutchy questioned before writing another big 'x' on the page of his notebook and flipping said page over. "What about your hair? Have you ever styled it a certain way or dyed it?"

"That crap's way too much work," Spot answered.

"Hey Bumlets?" Itey asked in mock innocence.

"Yes, Itey," Bumlets sighed in irritation, "I do, in fact, style my hair each and every morning."

"Yeah, you've got that nice little swoop-thing going on, huh?" Skittery mocked, reaching out to play with Bumlets' hair.

"Don't touch me, bitch!" Bumlets exclaimed, smacking Skittery's hand.

"Well," Skittery replied, looking affronted. "I know someone who's on her P-E-R-I-O-D," he continued in a sing-song voice.

"I can read, Skitts," Bumlets said with indifference before saying, "And I am not," in an insulted voice.

"So you've never styled your hair?" Dutchy asked, looking extremely disappointed before putting another 'x' on another page in his notebook and turning to another sheet. "Can you name the brand of pants you're wearing right now?"

"Fuck, I don't know. Jesus, I don't even think they're my pants; I don't ever remember this hole being here," Spot admitted, looking at a gigantic hole near his knee. "And what the hell is with all these questions anyway?"

"Nothing," Dutchy quickly claimed before writing another 'x' across the piece of paper.

"So Spot is wearing another guy's pair of pants," Itey observed, "I have to wonder what _you_ were doing last night."

"What?" Spot smirked, "You think I was busy shoving my dick up some guy's ass last night? Think again."

"I was actually thinking the other way around," Skittery confessed.

"Oh! Good question! Hey, Sean, have you ever bottomed in any way, shape, or form?" Dutchy asked.

"No," Sean answered with a little bit of irritation. "Will you stop asking me all of these asinine questions?"

"Hey wait!" Itey cried out. "What brand of pants are _you_ wearing Bum?"

Bumlets rolled his eyes before sighing in resignation. "Old Navy."

"Old Navy? My god," Skittery exclaimed excitedly, "That has _got_ to be worth at _least_ double the points, eh, Dutchy?"

"Wait, wait," Itey interupted, "Now comes the deciding moment. Bumlets...have you ever bottomed in any way, shape, or form?"

Bumlets rolled his eyes, "Yes."

"No way!" Skittery burst out, looking the happiest he had ever looked in his entire life. "I have to be dreaming...or you're just lying to make me feel better. When? You absolutely have to tell me when."

"I told you I slept with a guy, right?" Bumlets asked, not waiting for an answer but instead rushing through his explanation. "Well...he topped."

"Oh god," Skittery said, cracking up.

"It all goes down hill from here," Itey spoke up over the laughter, "He will never be this happy again."

Bumlets just rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Good bye, my love," Itey said to Skittery as soon as they arrived at his fuck-buddy's sixth period class. "I'll miss you like a fat kid misses the cake he just ate."

"That means a lot," Skittery replied, "But I don't think I can survive without you by my side every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year of every decade of every-"

"Class is starting soon, if you two are finished," Blink pointed out, appearing right beside them.

"Don't interrupt me, Cyclops," Skittery snapped.

"What are you doing here anyway? Come to irritate us so much our heads explode? Because I think it might be working," Itey said.

"Actually," Blink replied, keeping up a mask of indifference even though the 'cyclops' comment had made him want to stomp Skittery into the ground, "You're both standing right in front of my sixth period class and I can't get through the door."

"Too bad," Itey shrugged uncaringly to Blink before turning back to Skittery. "You know how much I love you though, right, Sugar-Pop? Surely all that love will enable you to survive until the class ends."

"I'm afraid only time will tell," Skittery replied, doing an excellent job of looking forlorn.

"Don't worry, my darling," Itey comforted, already moving away from the door and towards his next class, "I'll rush to your side as soon as I possibly can or die trying, I promise."

"I love you, my Itey-kins!" Skittery called out, waving to Itey and repositioning himself right in front of his classroom door so that Blink couldn't get in.

"Would you move?" Blink asked in irritation. "You're worst than Sean…well…you're more obnoxious than him at least."

"Wait, you're a friend of Sean's?" Skittery asked, completely changing his disposition and happily letting Blink through the classroom door. "No way! I would have never guessed!"

"I guess 'friend' is too strong of a word," Blink admitted, getting through the door while he could, "It's more like one of my friends has this crush on him and I'm kind of stuck in the middle…that, and I share seventh period with him."

"No way!" Skittery exclaimed, sitting next to Blink even though it wasn't his assigned seat, "I'm in the same situation! Well, the friend-with-a-crush situation; I don't have seventh period with him…actually I don't have _any_ classes with him, which is a shame because that could've _only_ resulted in good times."

"Well, not really, I mean…he mostly just threatens me," Blink admitted.

"Oh yeah," Skittery laughed off, "But that's just Sean being Sean. If you get past that he's a really cool guy."

"Yeah?" Blink asked, joining in the laughter, "And if you _don't_ get over it?"

"Then I guess he'd just be a bully," Skittery shrugged, not really seeming to care either way.

"Right, and you're okay with that?" Blink asked.

"What?" Skittery laughed, "Being friends with a 'bully'? 'Course I'm okay with it…so long as I'm not the one he's bullying."

"That's the most selfish thing I've ever heard," Blink marveled.

"Look, Sean and I aren't really what you'd really call _friends_," Skittery explained, finally being serious, "Yeah, he sits with us at lunch and we hang out before school…and sometimes even after school, but…well…I don't really fool myself into thinking that he cares about me or that he'd do something that I told him to do just because. Sean isn't that type of person. So, I mean…if he _was_ bullying someone I couldn't really do anything about it anyway, and if it's not me I don't want to stop hanging out with him just to stand up to some ideal about fairness and the 'Golden Rule' that no one really pays attention to anyway."

"Well it's a mute point at any rate," Blink pointed out, "He's not really bullying anyone right now…or at least no one badly enough that the school knows about it. But… there isn't anything I could do if Sean starts bullying people, either…not with one of my best friend's liking him."

"Yeah?" Skittery asked, "And if one of your best friend's _didn't_ like him?"

"Then I'd _try_ and stop him, but ultimately fail," Blink answered with complete honesty before explaining his reasoning. "I don't hold any fantasies about being able to control Sean either," he explained when Skittery looked at him in disbelief.

Skittery laughed, "Ah man, I can't believe I _ever_ stopped hanging out with you."

Blink smiled.

* * *

"I will miss you, my darling," Skittery promised Itey as they met outside Skittery's sixth period class and Itey's seventh period class.

"Oh no, fair gentleman," Itey replied in an Olde English accent, "It is _I_ who will be missing _you_…like the flowers miss the rain or the raccoons miss the summer breeze."

"Raccoons?" Skittery questioned, looking a little insulted, "Well that's not very romantic."

"It is if you think raccoons are cute," Itey argued, noticing that Blink stood beside them again, only this time grinning. It looked as if Skittery had made a new friend…much to Itey's shock and surprise.

"Do you?" Skittery asked in a whiny voice as he faked a pout, "Do _you_ think raccoons are cute?"

"Of course I think raccoons are cute!" Itey insured, "They're positively the cutest animal that I have ever seen or will have ever seen in my entire life and existence on this planet or in this universe…beside you, babe…naturally."

"Naturally," Skittery agreed, automatically becoming more perky and upbeat. "So, Cyclops, I'll see you tomorrow, sixth period, yes?"

"Not if you don't stop calling me 'Cyclops' you won't," Blink promised. "And you both are still standing in the middle of the doorway," he pointed out in mock irritation.

"Right, right," Skittery nodded before moving himself and Itey over a little to his left.

"That's the way to do it," Blink congratulated before walking off.

"Ho ho ho," Itey mocked, wrapping his arms around Skittery so his boy-toy couldn't walk off, "Is it just me? Or has someone got a new special friend to play with in one of his classes?"

"Hey," Skittery replied, pretending to be upset, "You're my only 'special friend', and don't you forget it. I am _your_ only 'special friend'…right? Because I don't know what I would do if my assumptions came out wrong."

"Of course you're my only 'special friend', Bumlets…I mean Skittery," Itey answered while holding a smirk.

"Oh! Too far, buddy! _Way_ too far!" Skittery shouted, disturbing a great amount of students in the hallway. "Bumlets? I can't believe you said Bumelts! Bumlets of all people! I can't believe it! Do you love him more than me?"

"No, of course not! Never! I could never! I love you! I swear!" Itey rushed out, doing his best to look guilty and panicked at the same time.

"Oh I don't believe this shit!" Skittery pretended to proclaim angrily. "Well that's fine! You can have him! But you better know that he was fucking _me_ on the side the _entire_ time he was with you!"

"Well if that's how you feel we don't have to see each other anymore," Itey bargained, acting angry even while trying to hold back a laugh.

"Fine! I don't want to see your bitch-ass, cock sucking, ugly-fuck face any longer anyway," Skittery declared.

"Good!" Itey shouted before whispering a small, "Good-bye, my angel. I'll miss you," and stomping off.

"I'll miss you too, Sweet Buns," Skittery shouted before scurrying off to his next class.

Itey chuckled before going into the same classroom that Skittery had just exited, his mind briefly darting over the unfairness that he couldn't be taking this class one period earlier.

"Hey," Itey unexpectedly greeted Mush as he sat next to the other boy.

"Hello," Mush replied uncertainly, "Are you sure that's your assigned seat? Because I don't ever remember you sitting there before."

"It's cool," Itey insured. "So…are you still hanging out with Blink?"

"Everyday," Mush replied happily, "Racetrack too, though not as much because of his strict parents."

"Right, right," Itey brushed off, "But about Blink…is he a little bit…you know…gay?"

"Yes," Mush answered, "Why did you care? Aren't you going out with Skittery?"

Itey smirked; trust Mush to be the only one besides his close friends that didn't think he and Skittery were just pretending to be together. "Well, yeah, Skittery's great," Itey assured Mush. "That's kind of what this is all about. See, Skittery and Blink have this same class right before us and when the class began they hated each other, but when the class ended they were acting like friends. It seems a little…off...to me and I was wondering if you could ask Blink what happened."

"Well sure, Itey," Mush replied, "Anything to help an old friend; you know that."

Itey beamed, first at the fact that Mush had actually agreed to help him, then at the fact that Mush still thought of him as a friend…or an 'old friend' at the very least. "Thanks, Mushie. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"Though…well it may not be my place to ask, but… Why do you want to know?" Mush asked.

Itey's smile dropped slightly when he realized that Mush wasn't as naïve and complacent as he used to be. In the past Mush would have never asked _why_ he was doing something for you, he would just _do_ it. "Well," he tried to explain, "Skittery's not really the type to make friends easily…you know that, right? I'm just curious to know what got Skitts to suddenly be so nice to someone."

"Well…maybe it's just because they never stopped being friends," Mush suggested happily.

Itey mentally shook his head, ashamed at himself for thinking that Mush would ever lose his naivety. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed, not wanting to burst his bubble. He used to…with the help of Specs and Skittery, only to get yelled at not even five seconds later by Racetrack and Kid Blink, but…it wasn't really his place anymore. "But…could you ask? Just to make sure?"

Mush happily nodded his head. "Of course," he answered, "You're right; nothing bad can come from just asking, and at least you can be sure then."

* * *

"It's a stupid test, Dutchy," Bumlets argued to his friend as they both sat in their eighth period class.

"It's not a stupid test," Dutchy kept trying to point out. "I happened to have written down some pretty good questions to ask him.

"All the questions revolve around the stereotype," Bumlets insisted, "Do you even realize that? God! You make a horrible homosexual. Did you actually come up with these questions yourself? Or did you hire some drunk homophobe to do it for you?"

"_Some_ of the questions are good," Dutchy tried to persuade.

"Dutchy! Come on," Bumlets burst out, "Have you _ever_ dyed your hair? Owned a small puppy? No, you haven't. You know who has? Me. And you know who isn't gay? Me. You know who is? You. …Thus proving these questions are _awful_."

"Or maybe you're a gay homophobe and I'm an open-minded heterosexual," Dutchy proposed.

"Owning a small puppy doesn't make you gay. And gays aren't the only people to have wanted to style their hair before," Bumlets pointed out. "You know good questions to ask someone if you want to know if they're gay or not? How about trying 'Do you like cock?' or 'Do pussies freak you out?' or the ever-popular 'Are you attracted to some people of the same sex?'"

"Like he'd answer any of _those_ questions with anything even resembling honesty," Dutchy scoffed. "I think not, my friend, I think not."

Bunlets rolled his eyes in exasperation, "You're such a dumbass."

"Who?" Skittery interrupted, sitting down next to Dutchy and Bumlets as Itey did the same thing. "Dutchy? Oh, yeah. He's like the retarded cousin of our group. Have we not talked about this before? Because we really should've."

"Yeah, yeah Dutchy's as stupid as thirty pounds of mulch. What's new?" Itey brushed off. "Speaking of what's new," he continued, "What's up with you and Blink? You suddenly friends now?"

"Who? Me?" Skittery asked. "Nah man. We just found some common ground and hit it off. Did you know one of his friends has a crush on Sean, too? I realize the kid is a little attractive, but I didn't think he was _that_ gorgeous looking. Couldn't you just stare at a girl with no boobs and get the same affect?"

"She'd have to have short hair, too," Itey added.

"Wait," Dutchy demanded, snapping his head up from his notebook, "Who is it exactly that has a crush on _my_ Sean?"

"Idiot," Skittery dismissed.

"No, seriously," Dutchy replied. "Who has a crush on Sean?"

"You," Bumlets answered while rolling his eyes. "Idiot."

"No, no, no," Dutchy responded. "Who else, besides me, has a crush on Sean?"

"Apparently the whole school does," Itey answered, "Though I don't really and truly understand exactly _why_. Isn't he a complete asshole to everyone that he has ever met at this school?"

"Idiot," Skittery finished for Itey.

"I _mean_," Dutchy sighed in vexation, "Who was it that you were talking about awhile ago? …One of you? Who was it? I heard you talking about it; don't try and deny it."

"You," Skittery answered. "Idiot."

"No!" Dutchy shouted too loud, making the whole room turn to him, "Besides me…who has a crush on Sean?"

"Everyone in the school…apparently!" Bumlets shouted back at the same volume. "Idiot!"

"No! Who were you just talking about?" Dutchy asked, standing up in frustration.

"You!" Itey answered, standing as well. "Idiot."

"Hey idiots," Sarah spoke up from across the room as she narrowed her eyes, "How about you all shut up? And if you could do so _before_ the teacher gets here…that'd be really super."

"No way!" Skittery shouted in a very mocking manner, pretending to be absolutely shocked as he stood up next to Dutchy and Itey and pointed his finger at Sarah. "Look guys! It's _the_ Sarah Jaocbs! Oh my golly-golly-gumdrops! I didn't know we were so blessed as to get _the_ Sarah Jacobs sharing the same _air_ we breath, let _alone_ share the same class. I used to be the best of best friends with her brother, you know."

"Oh, go to hell," Sarah demanded before flipping him off and then turning away.

* * *

"Can you name a song that Madonna sings?" Dutchy asked Sean as soon as school ended and they were all sitting next to the usual wall smoking.

"Who's Madonna?" Sean asked, not really caring, "Is she some chick that goes to this school?"

Dutchy just sighed sadly.

"Bumlets? It's all up to you," Skittery said, bringing the attention to him.

Bumlets rolled his eyes, "Borderline, Holiday, Lucky Star, Like a Virgin, Material Girl, Like a Prayer, Causing a Commotion, Live to Tell, Papa Don't Preach, Crazy for You, Into the Groove, Dress You Up…"

"Thank you, Bum," Itey interrupted, "I think you have more than proven you know a few more Madonna songs than is really healthy for a teenage male to know, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry if it's so weird that I like Madonna," Bumlets apologized sarcastically. "The woman's a pop star. Isn't it weirder _not_ to like her?"

"No one cares," Dutchy answered hurriedly. "Do you watch any French films?" he asked Sean.

"Do you think I spend my time watching foreign films? I go to the movies to relax, not to get some fucking French class," Sean answered.

"Bumlets?" Itey asked with a smirk.

Bumlets sighed, "Napolean, A Man Escaped, The 4000 Blows…"

"That's good, that's good," Skittery assured him. "I think that's enough to convince us. Thanks."

"Can you name any one of the Spice Girls?" Dutchy asked, still burying his head in his notebook.

Sean blinked and looked curiously at Dutchy, "No."

"Sporty Spice, Posh Spice, Ginger Spice (also known as Sexy Spice), Scary Spice, and Baby Spice," Bumlets answered without anyone having to ask him to.

Skittery looked like his head would explode from happiness. "_And_? Which one's your favorite?" he asked while silently chuckling.

"Baby Spice," Bumlets answered with irritation, but knowing that if he _didn't_ answer Skittery would just continue to bother him.

"Do you-" Dutchy tried to ask.

"No more questions," Bumlets demanded, putting out his cigarette and walking into the parking lot. "I'm going to wait in the car."

"Bah, bah, bah!" Itey stopped Bumlets. "I'm not letting someone in my car who's so mean to poor little Dutchy-poo. I'm not that heartless."

"So what? You won't give me a ride unless I answer more questions and let you make fun of me further?" Bumlets asked. "No thanks; I think I'll walk."

"I have to go soon anyway," Sean spoke up, putting out his own cigarette and walking towards Bumlets. "Wait until my ride gets here and I'll give you a lift," he offered in some weird moment of kindness.

Bumlets practically beamed. "That'd be awesome. Thanks."

Skittery and Itey both turned to Dutchy, both expected him to be beyond heart-broken and thus extremely funny. They were far from disappointed.


	10. Slingshot's Cousin

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_, you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:** Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here.

Summary of Chapter Nine:  
-Dutchy starts his test in order to determine if Spot's gay or not  
-Slingshot asks Spot for the day off in order to spend it with his cousin  
-Swifty tries to talk to Bumlets and Skittery but gets insulted and ignored instead  
-Bumlets tried to convince David to be more assertive  
-Skittery finds out that Bumlets bottomed once  
-Skittery is civil to Blink  
-Itey asks Mush what is going on between Blink and Skittery  
-Spot offers (in a rare moment of kindness) to drive Bumlets home

Getting Back Together Again

**X  
****Slingshot's Cousin**

Sean stepped out of the car as soon as it had parked in the mostly-empty car lot of his apartment building. He briefly thought about why it was that he had dropped Bumlets off before he just chalked it up to messing with Dutchy's head. The fact that the little idiot thought he was being secretive and doing a great job of hiding his crush really got on Spot's nerves.

"So what now, Boss?" Speed asked as he got out of the car as well.

Spot smirked, "Surely you can find something to do with yourself."

"I am at your beck and call, sir," Speed replied without any hesitation or sarcasm.

Spot smiled at that news. "Is there a reason you're talking to me right now?"

"Sir, yes, sir," Speed answered, snapping to attention. "Slingshot's off with his cousin and Hunter's wondering if that makes him the new second-in-command for today."

"Tell him I don't trust his incompetent, mother-fucking self around my men without Slingshot and that if he has any sort of a brain on him he'll take this chance to have a day off himself," Spot answered

"Yes, sir," Speed answered. "Also…Bam wants to know if you'll front him some money because he just ran out of tobacco this morning. Oh, and Stealth has some information for you. I don't know what kind of information, but he bet me ten dollars that you'd find it important."

"Tell Bam he's not getting his hands on my cash and that the only reason he's out of tobacco now is because he keeps betting with it," Spot responded. "Then find Stealth and tell him to go up to my room if he has 'important information' for me," he continued before heading towards the entrance of the apartment building.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait," Speed demanded, running for less than two seconds to catch up to his boss. "Slingshot wanted to know if you wanted to meet his cousin or not. He also says to keep the sarcasm to a minimum and that he wouldn't allow any vulgar language around his relative."

"How old is the cousin?"

"No idea, sir."

"Gender?"

"No idea, sir."

Spot thought a minute. "Alright, tell Sling to call me whenever they've got a spare minute and I'll try to work it in."

"Yes sir," Speed answered obediently.

Spot looked suspiciously at Speed. "Is there a reason for all this 'sir' crap? Did you do something wrong?"

"Sir, no sir," Speed replied without hesitation.

"So you're mocking me then?" Spot asked, already knowing the answer was 'yes' even if Speed decided to say otherwise.

"Just a little, sir," Speed admitted. "You've never asked me to take anyone home before," he pointed out. "Did the big bad Brooklyn gang leader make himself a friend?"

"Too much, Speed," Spot warned, not really angry with him.

"Yes sir," Speed answered with no hint of mocking in his voice now.

"Get to work," Spot commanded.

"Yes sir," Speed agreed before getting into another car and driving off.

* * *

"What happened between you and Skittery?" Mush asked Blink just as he promised to, "Itey noticed that you two were really nice to each other after seventh period, but really angry at each other before." 

"Oh, that," Blink smiled, "I don't know. He was an asshole to me until he found out Racetrack had a crush on Sean and then he just sat down next to me and was really nice."

"You told Skittery I have a crush on Sean?" Racetrack asked in shock and betrayal.

"No…well…he asked how I became friends with Sean and I just explained that we weren't really friends, per say, but that one of _my_ friends had a crush on him," Blink answered honestly, "Your name wasn't really brought up."

"I still don't think you should be messing around with him, Race," Mush spoke up, "He's rude and callous and disrespectful and he's a downright _bad_ person. I don't mean to tell you what to do, but…"

"Don't worry, Mush," Racetrack replied, knowing his friend meant well but becoming annoyed anyway, "I'll watch myself with him. I'll be careful."

"Racetrack," Blink spoke up, "He's the crew leader of the Brooklyn gang; I think you should be more than just careful."

"Look guys," Racetrack said, "I know all that, I really do. And while I realize he's probably a hardened criminal it's not like he's going to kill me without a reason to, right? And he's been nice…kind of…I mean…he's been…at least a little civil to me…he hasn't been mean...well, he is, but not like gang-leader malicious."

Blink rolled his eyes. "Nice argument. I know _my_ image of him has _completely_ turned around," he replied with sarcasm exceedingly evident in the tone of his voice.

"Just be careful, okay Race?" Mush asked with concern lacing his expression. "I don't want to see you get hurt, in any way, shape, or form."

"I know," Racetrack said, trying to pacify his friends. "I promise I'll be careful around him and I'll watch my back. I know what I'm doing."

"Famous last words," Blink muttered to himself.

"Aren't you supposed to go home right after school?" Mush asked as soon as the idea hit him, "Neither of us want you getting into trouble with your mom again."

"It's no problem," Racetrack insisted, "I took care of it. My new curfew's six o-clock."

"How did you manage that?" Blink asked, intrigued in the prospect that someone could get Mrs. Higgins to change her mind.

Racetrack shrugged, not really wanting to tell his friends that he had hung out with Sean yesterday and he had taken care of everything for him. "I guess she just changed her mind."

"Wow," Mush replied, readily believing his friend, "That was really nice of her."

Blink was a little more suspicious.

* * *

"Hey Bumlets," Itey greeted as soon as his friend entered Skittery's garage, "So? How was the ride with Sean? Fun? Did anything interesting happen?" 

"That's an opening to freak Dutchy out if I ever saw one," Bumlets replied, sitting down on one of the lawn chairs. "I'm going to pass just this once."

"No," Dutchy interrupted, "I want to know. What happened?"

Bumlets rolled his eyes, realizing that Dutchy just wouldn't let him help him. "He blew me so well I think he turned me gay," he sighed, knowing Dutchy would believe it no matter what tone of voice he used. "We're going out now."

Dutchy's eyes widen. "You…_bastard_! You absolute bastard! How could you? After I told you I liked him!"

"I'm kidding around Dutch," Bumlets sighed, "Sean didn't blow me, I'm not gay, and we aren't going out. The trip was uneventful at best. I said 'hi' to the driver, he greeted me back, and everyone was quiet until I got dropped off."

"Well…you _are_ gay," Skittery burst in as soon as he saw the opening, "But other than that I believe you." He was sitting on the small, beaten up couch along with Itey as a large bowl of potato chips sat between them. Skittery helped himself to one.

"That was going to be mine," Itey scolded with a pseudo pout on his face.

"Sorry, babe," Skittery apologized, "You pick one."

Itey did as he was told.

"That was going to be my next one," Skittery told him, laughing. "Okay, my turn."

"That was mine," Itey smiled.

"So you didn't learn anything more about Sean while you were in the car with him?" Dutchy asked Bumlets in disappointed.

"Yes," Skittery said to Itey as his friend snagged the chip that he had already decided was going to be his next one.

"His driver glanced up at me and then smirked at Sean," Bumlets recalled to Dutchy, "Other than that he drove, Sean glanced out the window, and I sat there awkwardly."

"Yes," Itey said to Skittery as his friend did the same thing to him.

"So what do you think the smirk meant?" Dutchy asked.

"Yes."

"I don't know," Bumlets confessed in exasperation, "It's not like I'm best friends with the driver or anything. How do you expect me to know?"

"Obviously," Itey said to Skittery.

"I know, right?" Skittery admitted with a laugh. "Your turn."

"Well what kind of a smirk was it? Was it a this-is-probably-your-new-boyfriend smirk? …Or was it a nice-to-see-you-again smirk? …Or was it an inside-joke smirk? …Or was it a this-isn't-like-you smirk?" Dutchy asked with horribly concealed curiosity.

"Yep," Skittery nodded as Itey got his chip right.

"I don't know!" Bumlets easily confessed, already irritated with all of his friend's questions. "I never realized there were different kinds of smirks. I, stupidly, always thought of a smirk as just a smirk."

"Right," Itey said happily as Skittery stole the ship that was predestined to be his. "My turn."

"But you're positive it was a smirk, right? It wasn't a grin or a leer or a smile?" Dutchy asked to make sure. "You're definite about that fact, right?"

"Yeah," Skittery nodded to Itey again.

"I think," Bumlets answered with confusion written all over his face. "What's the difference between a smirk and a grin?"

"Right," Itey applauded as he reached for his own potato chip.

"You're hopeless," Dutchy declared, rubbing away a headache. "Not to mention absolutely no help at all."

* * *

"You're useless," Spot told Hunter, trying to rub away his oncoming headache. "Did you or did you not do it?" 

"I think I did," Hunter answered for the fifth time, "but I can't be sure."

"How hard is it to remember if you've threatened someone or not?" Spot asked in irritation. "I don't even _care_ if you did it or not…I just need to know if you _did_ so I can fix things if you've somehow offended him."

"I don't know!" Hunter exclaimed, "I thought he was our enemy so I might have, but I never went out of my way to do it! I swear!"

"So you _do_ remember doing it?" Spot asked to make sure.

"No! Yes!" Hunter shouted before bringing his hands to the back of his head and crouching down so he was looking at the floor. "I don't know!"

"We are not rivals with anyone from the Bronx, Hunter," Spot told him, speaking to him as one would to a five-year old. "Okay? Bronx good; Queens bad."

"What about Manhattan?" Hunter asked, bringing his head up but not getting up from his position on the floor.

"Gangs from Manhattan are pissants," Spot lectured. "None of them have enough control or power to do anything to us. Therefore, we remain neutral in Manhattan until one of them tries something with us."

"So I can be mean to people from Manhattan?" Hunter asked.

"No!" Spot shouted. "You treat them _neutrally_! Do you know what that means? Impartially, objectively, with detachment! You don't do or say anything to anyone from Manhattan. Are we clear?"

A knock came from Spot's closed door before it opened a crack and Slingshot's head came through. "I know this is probably a bad time with you yelling and everything, but… You want to meet my cousin now?"

"Sure," Spot answered with a sigh in order to release tension. "I could do with a break anyway."

"You won't kill me or anything, will you?" Hunter asked worriedly, getting up from the floor.

Spot smiled and forced out a laugh, knowing that he couldn't threaten Hunter with Slingshot's cousin within hearing distance since the cousin didn't know they were part of any type of gang. "Now, Hunter, we're not running that type of business here. But, I admit, if we did and I were you…well, I would be worried."

Hunter looked confused for a moment, now in a fully upright position. "I don't know what that means."

Spot sighed again, "Just get out of here, Hunter, before my head explodes and _you_ have to clean up the mess."

"Yes sir," Hunter said before obeying and darting out the door.

"So let's see this cousin," Spot demanded, turning to Slingshot, "I want to know what's so great about 'em that you would ask me this morning to let you skip out on me this afternoon."

"It's not him personally, Sean," Slingshot tried to explain again, walking in and leaving the door open for his cousin. "It's the fact that he's _family_ that made me want to abandon you today."

"New Kid?" Swifty asked with surprise as soon as he stepped into the room of the person his cousin had been going on about since he picked him up at school.

Spot stared Slingshot's cousin, trying to place him. He had called him "New Kid" meaning he was from school in Manhattan. Other than that he couldn't really decipher him from the other idiots crawling around that school. "Do I know you?"

"You sure as fuck should, you asshole," Swifty answered, "We got paired up for that stupid French project and two seconds into it you told me that you weren't going to do any of it."

"Right," Spot replied as it all clicked. He rounded to Slingshot and raised his eyebrows, waiting for some kind of an explanation.

"When I found out what school Kevin went to I wondered if you knew each other, but I couldn't ask you because you rarely remember anyone's name. Hell, you called me 'Abortion-Boy' a month before you decided I earned the name 'Slingshot'," Slingshot tried to clarify.

"I felt bad about that, actually," Spot admitted, "I would have called you 'Homeless-Boy' instead of 'Abortion-Boy', but it was already taken."

"Anyway," Slingshot continued, not really caring about the fact that he used to be called 'Abortion-Boy' any more, "I just decided that it'd be easier (and more fun) to just have you two meet each, stand by silently to watch, and see what gets brought up. Personally I think it went pretty well."

"So what was your name? Kevin? Weird…I thought it started with an 's'," Spot said in a moment of clarity.

"My real name's 'Kevin'," Swifty easily confessed, still slightly glaring at Spot, "But I'm more commonly known as 'Swifty'."

"Score one for you, Bo-Sp-Sean," Slingshot stumbled, forgetting Swifty knew the boss as only Sean until it was almost too late.

Swifty looked at his cousin in confusion but let it drop.

"Well," Slingshot quickly jumped right back in, "Now that you know each other through me maybe you can re-forge your relationship, eh? What's this French project anyway?"

"I wouldn't do it for anyone else but you, Sling," Spot admitted with a smirk, "And even then it's kind of a long shot."

* * *

Racetrack came home earlier than the designated time, feeling quite proud of himself for achieving such a goal. Really he was just being cautious around his mother; he didn't _know_ when her newfound happiness would abate but he did know that it eventually _would_, so in all truth and honesty he was just protecting himself from future attack. 

And as soon as he walked upstairs, opened the door to his room and saw his mom he knew the future had arrived.

She was on all fours, halfway under the bed. Now, Racetrack didn't hide his things under his bed (he was far from stupid; that's the first place they look), but it did occur to him that in order for his mother to be crawling around on his floor she had to have been looking for something. Furthermore, why would she be looking for something just out of the blue? No, that wasn't the case. She must have already found something and instead of calling him, getting angry, and demanding he came home she just decided to go through his stuff to see what else she could find.

Racetrack's fear was beyond words as the many things she could have found in his room went running across his mind. He had to take a few calming breaths before he could even _think_ about moving or talking.

"Mom? What are you doing?" Racetrack asked, privately elated that his voice came out strong and curious instead of squeaky and suspicious. "Did you drop something?" he continued when she didn't reply, really hoping that to be the case.

"I'm looking for lottery tickets," Mrs. Higgins replied calmly, still searching under the bed even though the occupant of the room was home.

"Lottery tickets?" Racetrack asked, his worry growing just as much as his confusion; he had never bought lottery tickets or even _thought_ about buying lottery tickets. …So why would his mom being looking for them in his room? "Why?"

"Well," his mom replied calmly, finally standing up and facing Racetrack. "I found a betting ticket for a horserace in your pants when I went to get your laundry. I looked through your room and found all of these," she continued, bringing her hand up and showing her son the dozens of betting tickets she had found. "I figured if you're spending so much time at the racetrack you're probably spending money on lottery tickets as well.

"I…I can explain those," Racetrack slightly stuttered, pulling on his poker-face as his brain went into overdrive searching for a reason he would have betting tickets if he wasn't betting. The only flying thought he could catch a hold of was 'Sean would find a way out of this'.

"Look at all of these, Anthony," Mrs. Higgins demanded, waving the betting tickets in front of his face. "You have a serious gambling problem. Do you realize that?"

"No, Mom, it's not like that," Racetrack tried to convince his mother, grasping onto any type of argument he could find. "It's not like I steal money or anything; it's all my own. And I'm responsible with it, I swear."

"Betting is _not_ responsible, Tony," Mrs. Higgins lectured in a voice of forced calm, "There is nothing about it that even sligthly _resembles_ responsibility. I'm going to have to talk to your father about this, but from now on no hanging out with Wink and Moshe."

"I can't hang out with Blink and Mush?" Racetrack asked, understanding her even though she had gotten their names wrong. "But why not? We've been friends forever. You can't just tell me to suddenly stop hanging out with them!"

"I know they're the reason you're gambling, Anthony; you can't try to hide it from me," Mrs. Higgins explained. "No, no more. I have put up with them far too much for far too long."

"What about Sean?" Racetrack asked hurriedly as soon as he recognized the idea as something coherent to him. "Can I still hang out with him? You like him right? Can I?"

Mrs. Higgins faltered for a few seconds. "Only if he comes over here and I need to know when you're planning on inviting him over at least two days in advance," she bargained.

"Can I hang out with him Friday?" Racetrack inquired, knowing it was probably a bad idea but wanting to ask before his mom changed her mind.

"No, Anthony," Mrs. Higgins sighed, organizing all the betting tickets by date in her hand. "Look at all of these. You go every weekend! Even last weekend…which is odd seeing as you were _grounded_."

"I'm sorry, Mom," Racetrack said, looking forlornly at the floor.

"If you want you can invite Sean over Saturday afternoon," Mrs. Higgins offered in a rare moment of kindness. "But we are going to have a serious talk when your father gets home."

"Yes Mom," Racetrack agreed, happy that he got a chance to have his mother meet Sean (maybe he could do something about convincing his mother to let him hang out with Blink and Mush) but far from showing it.

* * *

"David," Specs whined, "I don't even know what you're talking about any more. Are you gay? Or are you straight? How tough is it for you to answer just one simple question? First you hit on me and then you dash out all angry and shit. What the hell's going on?" 

David tried to yell at him and point out that Specs had been the one not listening properly. He tried to explain that yes, he was gay, but no, he did not have any kind of a crush on Specs. Unfortunately, instead of all that, what came out was, "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have done that to you and put you in such an awkward position." Needless to say, by that point, David was slightly fuming at himself.

"So what does this mean? Yes, you're gay, and yes, you have a crush on me, but you'll try to control yourself around me?" Specs asked. "I appreciate that and all Dave, but you said it yourself that all the boys want me; I can't really expect you to completely control yourself. I guess it's my fault for being so irresistible," Specs sighed in resignation.

"Are you serious?" David burst out, "Do you hear yourself right now? You're so full of shit! Not everyone on Earth is infatuated with you! You aren't even that attractive! You're average at _best_!"

"Excuse me?" Specs asked in outrage. "I'm _gorgeous_, thank you very much! _I'm_ the fucking Apollo _god_ of the lowly humans! What's up with you? What? Is it the fact that since you've told me you're gay you have to prove your manliness by trying to pick a fight with me?"

"I'm…" _sorry_ David was about to say before a voice in his head that sounded creepily like Bumlets called him a pussy. "No, you know what? I'm not sorry. You've been treating me like shit for as long as I can remember! I'm…I'm tired of it! I realize it might be my fault for not tell you how I feel…but…but…and you're just so irritating all the time and you push me around with no regard for what I have to say and you're rude to _everyone_…and…and…God! If I had even a little less self control I would punch you!"

"What the fuck, Dave?" Specs screamed back, "I push you around? I have no regard for your feelings? Who the hell do you think you're talking to? Remember that party we went to last Saturday? Remember how you wanted to leave? Remember how we _did_? _I_ was having a wonderful time and I would have stayed there for _hours_ if it hadn't been for you! But you wanted to leave, so we left."

"I didn't even want to go in the _first_ place! And I told you that! But you just kept pushing and pushing until I finally agreed to give up on homework for the night. And then where did we go? To the party _Sarah_ was at! _Sarah_, Specs! You should have realized what an awkward position you put me in, and when I told you what did you do? Kept pushing until I said yes!" David shouted. "Do these things not occur to you? Are you just that stupid?"

"It was _your_ decision David! I left it up to you! If you just had the ability to make up your mind and maybe be assertive for once we wouldn't be having any problems!" Specs pointed out.

"But I can't be assertive around you because you're so fucking overbearing!" David loudly explained.

"No, David," Specs tried to correct with wild hand gestures and a deafening voice, "The reason _you_ can't be assertive isn't because _I'm_ overbearing; it's because you're afraid to have someone dislike you!"

"I can't do anything with you around!" David insisted, "…Homework on a Friday night? Lame. …A study session? Boring."

"You don't have to stick around," Specs pointed out, "We don't _have_ to hang out."

"Fine then!" David's anger agreed. "I don't _want_ to hang out with you!"

"Fine!" Specs repeated.

"Get the hell out of my house, Specs!" David screamed, pointing towards the door.

* * *

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" Skittery and Itey chimed together before both picking the same choice for the twelfth time in a row. 

"Try again," Skittery suggested; dropping his hand from the scissors formation it had been in.

"This isn't working," Dutchy pointed out with complete boredom. "You guys have been playing this game for the last fifteen minutes."

"Just let them," Bumlets proposed. "The more you oppose the more they're going to keep going."

They had all relocated to Bumlets' front porch after deciding that they didn't want to be in garage full of cobwebs and dust.

"Your patience level must be enormous," Dutchy marveled. "Don't you find that even a _little_ bit irritating?"

Bumlets shrugged. "I guess I've just gotten used to it. They've been doing this since the first day they ever became friends. I think I'm more surprised you _aren't_ used to it."

"What was annoying yesterday is still annoying today and what's annoying today will still be annoying tomorrow," Dutchy explained in a voice that sounded as if he was reciting something.

Bumlets simply rolled his eyes and retaliated with, "Only if you refuse to improve yourself."

"Hey, no fair," Dutchy replied, "You can't just out-smart me like that. You were supposed to be stumped for an answer."

"Anyone can out-smart you, Dutchy," Skittery pointed out as he made his hand into a rock.

"Hell, I'm pretty sure a _box_ could out-smart you, Dutch," Itey added after he, too, formed his hand into a rock.

"So I want to hear more about how Bumlets bottomed," Skittery changed the subject with a smirk.

"Haven't I already told you about that?" Bumlets asked, not very happy at the prospect of reliving the occasion.

"Well yeah," Itey answered before mumbling, "Rock, paper, scissors. Shoot!"

Skittery grinned when they both picked paper. "But we were never informed you were the girl," he explained, "It changes everything. Not only that, but it also makes the story thousands of times better; which is quite an accomplishment given the fact that it was such a good story to begin with."

"I've already told you everything," Bumelts pointed out, "I thought he was a chick and I couldn't bring myself to tell him that."

"Yeah, yeah," Skittery brushed off, finally giving up on the rock, paper, scissors game. "But I want to know where the bottoming came into play. I just assumed that since he looked like a girl he _was_ the girl. Now I want to know why I was wrong. What made you bottom?"

Bumlets grinned at Dutchy in an I-told-you-so manner concerning the stopping of the game before answering. "It's not like I knew what to do," he admitted. "I'm not as well versed in gay sex like some other people. So I told him I was a virgin and he said I should probably bottom. I didn't know what else to do but agree."

"Wait," Itey interrupted, "So he thinks he took your virginity and he never even called you again? That miserable little bastard."

"No, he called," Bumlets confessed, "It was the next day and everything. He…uh…wanted another go."

"And?" Skittery asked, leaning forward in his lawn chair, "What'd you say? Did you say 'yes'? Did you bottom again? Try to give a blow job?"

"I told him I had a serious boyfriend that I had no desire to leave," Bumlets answered. "He never called back after that."

Skittery laughed so hard he tumbled onto the cement of the porch. "Oh god…Bumlets…our little gay-whore," he said as soon as he had enough air to do so.

"So you did all that just so you wouldn't have to admit you got his gender wrong?" Dutchy asked in amazement. "Why? How can you hate being wrong _that_ much?"

"It wasn't just that," Bumlets explained, "I was horny and everything seemed like too much of a pain in the ass to deal with when the idea of sex was going through my head. Then when he called me the next day it seemed like it was too late to confess that it had all been a mistake."

"But you were turned on, right? You just said so yourself," Skittery jumped in. "You got turned on by a guy, consequently, you are a gay man."

"I got turned on by a guy I thought was a girl," Bumlets corrected, "The fact that he was in all actuality a _guy_ just made things awkward."

"So you're a gay man that has been poisoned by society to think that homosexuality is wrong," Skittery amended, not letting go of the idea. "It still makes you a gay man."

"Who's a gay man?" Jack asked, walking up the front steps to Bumlets' porch.

"Jack? Out in daylight with us?" Itey asked in a mockingly confused voice.

"Quick!" Skittery said quietly, doing a wonderful job of faking worry, "Get in the house before someone sees you! Who knows what danger you'll be in if that happens!"

Jack rolled his eyes, "Right. I can't believe it slipped my mind that you guys can't just be normal and treat me civilly. Go ahead; make fun. I guess I kind of deserve it anyway; it's my fault for forgetting what assholes you all are."

"Says the guy who sleeps over at one of our houses every night," Bumlets narrated.

"Seriously…why are you here? The sun hasn't even set yet," Dutchy pointed out.

"Did your friends finally decide you were too much of a douche bag for them?" Skittery guessed. "If that's the case and you're looking for new friends…we aren't hiring."

"I would tell you to scurry home," Itey added, "But I realize you don't have one so that would be kind of pointless."

"Don't you think that's kind of a low blow?" Jack asked, trying to hide how his stomach had sunk at that comment. He knew the guys were blunt and offensive but he was just now realizing that he hadn't talked to them enough to become used to it.

"Oh, waa…poor Jack," Skittery mocked, "It must be so horrible to not have anyone love you."

"Lay off, Skitts," Jack demanded, quite taken aback at how little they cared about his feelings.

"Hey!" Itey shouted, suddenly standing, "What are you? Friends now? I don't ever recall giving you the right to call Skittery 'Skitts'. If you do it again I'm going to have to reach into your throat to rip out your large intestines and then precede to hang you with them."

"Calm down," Bumlets' composed voice commanded. He was the only one who had any semblance of tranquility about them. Everyone else was wide-eyed, starring at a clearly irate Itey.

Fortunately, rather immediately, everyone followed Bumlets' order. Itey sat back down (though still looking annoyed) as everyone else tried to turn away and put up an indifferent front (though failing as everyone kept throwing looks over to Itey).

Suddenly Skittery laughed. "Oh, Jesus…anger issues, Itey?"

Itey grinned back. "I was trying to make Jack go away."

"Yeah, and it would have gone perfectly, too, if Bumlets hadn't gone and ruined it.

Bumlets just shrugged, not really caring either way.

"Could you tell me next time you decide to do something like that?" Dutchy asked, still trying to regulate his breathing. "Fuck, I almost pissed myself."

"Not on my lawn chair, Dutch," Bumlets ordered, "If you do I'll have to reach into your throat to rip out your large intestine and then precede to strangle you with them."

"Stop joking about that!" Dutchy ordered. "It's not funny. That shit seriously happened to my uncle last year."

"You're full of crap," Bumlets declared, not believing his friend for even one second. "Didn't you say your uncle was in jail all last year?"

"Well, yeah, that's where it happened," Dutchy insisted.

"Bullshit," Bumlets muttered loud enough for everyone to hear it.

"So if you're going to insist on staying you have to at least tell us _why_ you've decided to torture us with your presence," Skittery bargained, bring everyone's attention back to Jack.

Swifty's hanging out with his uncle or something," Jack shrugged.

"I see," Itey interrupted. "So you got lonely without him and decided _we_ could entertain you just as well," he guessed. "If that's the case I think you need to go have your brain checked."

"I am not a clown!" Skittery shouted, pretending to be upset, "And we are not here to act stupid for your amusement!"

"Well, Dutchy is…maybe…but that's only sometimes," Itey added as an after thought. "And it's only for his actual friends."

"If you guys are my friends I'd hate to see who my enemies are," Dutchy joked.

"Stupid!" Skittery shot down almost immediately.

"That's such a clichéd, overused, pile-of-shit phrase," Itey explained. "You should be ashamed of yourself for even _thinking_ of using it."

"I was hoping you were better than that, Dutch," Bumlets admitted, shaking his head back and forth while starring at the ground. "I don't even know how to describe what I'm feeling right now; it's so much more than just mere disappointment."

Jack sighed, "Don't tell me that this is what you do all day. …Sit around and insult each other? How can you not get bored?"

"As opposed to you, who…what? Plays sports every single second of the day? I think I'll stick to my insults, thank you," Itey replied, "At least then I can call myself clever."

"Right, right," Jack mock-agreed, "Because how awful would it be to be another dumb jock? Lord knows the world is in need of more smart-ass, offensive potheads."

"Not it!" Skittery called out, touching his finger to his nose.

"Not it!" Bumlets and Itey quickly followed, touching their own fingers to their noses before turning to Dutchy.

"Ha!" Skittery said to Dutchy, "That means that Jack is staying at _your_ house tonight."

"What? No, he can't!" Dutchy immediately started arguing, "My parents are going to be home! Do you know how difficult it will be to sneak a football player passed them? It's practically impossible! I'm not risking my bed for Jack."

"Ow," Skittery mock-scolded, "That was a little hurtful, eh Jack?"

"If you guys don't want to give me a place to stay that's fine with me," Jack responded. "After all, there's always somewhere else I can sleep; I don't _need_ you."

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "You can sleep at my house," he gave in. "but only because I feel sorry for you. And, for the record, you'd be sleeping on the streets without us around so don't you dare for one instant act like a stuck up little prick and try to take advantage of us."

Jack just glared.

"Well," Dutchy announced, wanting to leave now that the conversations had turned tense, "If Jack's staying here I'm going to go before anyone changes their mind and he gets pawned off on me."

"Yeah," Itey agree, checking his cell phone for the time. "We should probably get going to," he explained, jerking his head towards Skittery before reaching out in order to hold his hand.

"We haven't made out nearly as much today as we both planned on," Skittery explained before walking hand-in-hand with Itey back to his house.

"I'm going to watch television," Bumlets stated (not really wanting to be left alone with Jack either) before standing up and going inside. He let the door slam shut behind him, not really caring if Jack followed or not.

* * *

Dutchy didn't really want to go home; he just didn't want to be dragged into any overly awkward time with Jack. He had figured that anything (even dealing with his parents continually trying to scare him into being straight) was better than sitting around with Jack and Bumlets. Not only did Bumlets never talk (thus forcing all conversation to fall onto his shoulders), but he also didn't know how to act around Jack (were they friends? Allies? Were they enemies? Strangers?). 

Unfortunately, upon arriving at his destination he felt an incredible pull back towards Bumlets' house. He really didn't want to go home just yet. He had a late curfew and he had decided early on to use it to his advantage as much as he possibly could.

Turning away from his house he made the split decision to not go back to Bumlets' either. After going through the places he could go and not get kicked out of his mind settled on going to the nearest café (he could afford some alone time anyway) in an attempt to try and at least start on his homework.

His plans were dashed as soon as he saw Specs in the café he was planning on doing homework in.

"Hey Specs," Dutchy greeted, sitting down next to him even though he wasn't invited.

"Uh? Oh…yeah…hi and shit," Specs mumbled, glancing down at his coffee and refusing to look Dutchy in the eyes.

"Are you here with someone?" Dutchy asked, immediately noticing Specs' shiftiness. "Because I don't care if you are. I can leave if you want me to. Hell, I can even pretend not to know you if you think that'll help."

"Sit," Specs demanded, kicking the chair across from him out with his foot. "Please," he corrected, still mumbling, "I mean…yes, I want you to…uh…I would appreciate it…no…uh…uh…I'm not here with anyone and…uh…"

"Message received…I think anyway," Dutchy replied with a smile before sitting down. "So I take it something bad happened…or at the very least something shocking. So what was it? I can't believe it'd be any kind of good news."

"Do you think I'm a mean person? …Or that I'm too pushy? …Or that I don't take others' feelings into account before I act?" Specs asked, seemingly ignoring Dutchy's questions.

"Well…I mean…" Dutchy faltered. "Which one is it you want me to answer first?"

"Doesn't matter," Specs answered flippantly, "Just answer them in order."

"No, you aren't mean," Dutchy answered, "Yes, you can be a little pushy. Yes, most of the time you don't really think about how others will react to what you're doing."

Specs let his head drop lower to the table. "Seriously? Ah man, I can't believe this. David was right and I was completely oblivious to everything. What am I going to say to him now? I was so sure he was wrong."

"It's not entirely a bad thing," Dutchy tried to insist, leaning forward a little more. "Look, so you can be pushy…some people like that. And I kind of admire the fact that you don't consider anyone else before you do things; it shows that what you do is entirely and utterly for yourself."

"So I'm selfish?" Specs asked, making sure he had grasp the concept of what his ex-friend was going for. "Thanks," he said with obvious sarcasm, "I feel so much better _now_."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Dutchy tried to explain, "You don't let other people effect your actions. There's no guilt, no stepping on other people just to make them feel bad, no lessening of your actions just because you think someone might find it wrong; it's like you're completely your own person. I mean, isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what people should be striving for?"

"Not when it makes said people's friends feel like they're being pushed around and ignored," Specs pointed out, not even a little bit closer to getting rid of his bad mood. "I actually drove David to scream at me. Can you believe that? Davy's patience level could wrap around the entire world multiple times before it even came close to ending. You think no one would be able to make him snap…but me? Mission accomplished."

"So it's something you can work on improving…for David's sake. I mean, everyone needs a little improvement from time to time, right? It's not like you're the only person who has ever gotten on their friend's nerves," Dutchy pointed out.

"David's gay…I think…" Specs said, bringing up another problem. "And I think he might like me…or something. I don't know…everything was so confusing while he was screaming."

"So…? David likes you? Seriously?" Dutchy asked, not only surprised by the fact that David was gay but also…well…who would have ever thought David would want to hook up with _Specs_, of all people?

"It's _bad_, Dutchy. …_Terrible_, even. I mean, I'm not gay and I really don't know how to deal with another dude crushing on me," Specs confessed. "No offense."

"Don't worry about it," Dutchy replied, "I'm not crushing on you."

"Yeah, but you are…uh…you know…" Specs stuttered before finally whispering, "gay."

"It's not _that_ much of a secret, Specs," Dutchy said, slightly amused but at the same time stunned his old childhood friend would have such a problem with it. Oddly enough, though he hadn't given it a lot of conscious thought he realized that in the back of his mind he had just assumed that everyone in the old group would be okay with it. "But, it _is_ a secret, nonetheless, so don't spread it around _too_ much."

"This is a serious problem," Specs scolded. "I mean, I can't…I can't _do_ this…this _gay_ thing. I know I probably sound like the worst person on the earth or something, but I can't. …And to have to talk to him tomorrow? There's no way!"

"So? Just don't," Dutchy suggested, "Tell him you need some time and that you'll tell him when you think you can deal with it better. Even if he did have an outburst…he's still David; I'm sure he'll understand."

"I sit next to the guy in second period," Specs pointed out, "I sit with him at lunch. Who am I supposed to sit with at lunch now? Huh?"

"Hey!" Dutchy exclaimed as if he had just struck upon a brilliant idea. "You can probably sit with me and my friends at lunch. You might have to put up with Skittery and Itey insulting you, but other than that I'm sure no one will care."

* * *

A/N: 

So this chapter was about 7000 words (which means it's just a little less than the length of the last chapter)...definitely not something I was expecting to happen. Usually the chapters after school are short...well...guess I changed that, didn't I?

Now, this would normally be the point where I beg people to review, but instead (since by this point I expect you to know I want a review from you) I'm going to gloat about the reviews I already have.  
Thank you so much for the reviews! During the start of this story I never thought I'd be getting over twenty-five reviews this early, and now look. Yippee! Thank you all for following my story even through all the shaky updates.

But we're not anywhere close to being done yet (for I have neither Sprace nor Blush at this point...don't worry...I'm getting there...eventually) so keep checking up on me, my wonderful readers, and I'll try my hardest not to disappoint you.


	11. Spot's Gay

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_, you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:** Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here.

Summary of Chapter Ten:  
-Spot meets Slingshot's cousin Swifty  
-Racetrack's mom discovers her son gambles  
-David and Specs got into a big fight  
-Bumlets farther explained what happened when he slept with a guy  
-Jack comes over to Bumlet's house early, causing everyone else to scurry home  
-Dutchy and Spes meet and Specs agonizes over his problems with David  
-Dutchy invites Specs to eat lunch with him and his friends so that Specs can successfully avoid David a little longer

Getting Back Together Again

**XI  
****Spot's Gay**

"So you'll try and be a little nicer to him?" Slingshot asked his boss, not quite believing that he would no matter what he said.

They were both sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for Gadget to announce that Spot's bike was done so that Spot could go to school. The only reason Slingshot was here was to make sure he wouldn't have to drive Spot there himself.

"You should be glad I'm not kicking your ass right now," Spot replied, "Do you realize how dangerous it was to bring someone I go to school with over here? If I had known the risks I would have never allowed it. What if he gets suspicious? Are you so hung up in family shit that you've forgotten how to protect the people who look out for you?"

"He's family, Spot," Slingshot tried to explain, "Surely you can understand how important family is. I was completely shunned by them until Swifty came along. At least try to put yourself in my shoes."

"Don't try that 'blood is thicker than water' crap with me," Spot warned. "'Family' is just a group of people forced together hoping to make the most of it. _We're_ family, Sling, not some pussy who didn't even know you existed until a couple of days ago."

"Really?" Slingshot asked, taken aback, "I mean…I never knew that you considered me family. I…I had no idea. Honestly…in some weird way…well…I'm really touched."

"I don't," Spot argued, "I'm saying this for your benefit. If you want a family you've got one right here. If it's between that and searching around for DNA that is close to yours I'd rather have the former."

"Well…you just ruined that affectionate moment," Slingshot pointed out. "Though I can't say I'm too surprised. Family isn't important to you, friends aren't important to you…what is?"

"Brooklyn," Spot shrugged, looking at Slingshot as if the answer was obvious…and in all actuality it was.

"That's it? A _place_?" Slingshot asked, "That's all that keeps you running? You aren't normal, Boss-man."

"It's not just a place," Spot retorted, "It's symbolic."

"Symbolic for what?" Slingshot asked, knowing that if he didn't get an answer now he never would. Somehow for some reason Spot was truly being open…to some extent anyway. It was shocking, to say the very least.

"Motorcycle has been upgraded," Gadget announced happily, walking into the room they all used for a kitchen with a proud hop in his step. "I upped the speed by about twenty-five miles, though the speedometer doesn't go that high. I can probably get a new one if you want, but we don't have any of those lying around so it'll take some more time."

Slingshot sighed in loss, quite angry at Gadget for ruining the moment. He'd have to talk to the fourteen-year-old about knocking whenever he came into a room…or explain to him that he just couldn't come near Spot when he was talking to him.

"It's fine," Spot assured, "When I'm going that fast I doubt I'll care about the actual speed anyway. Good job, Gadget."

"Thank you sir," Gadget beamed, looking more like a young teen when he did that.

Slingshot seemed to have lost his anger at that. Seeing the two of them together reminded him of a father and son pair, even though Spot was only three years older than Gadget.

"Is there anything else?" Gadget asked, hoping to have a chance to prove himself yet again, thus getting even more praise.

"You've been busy lately, haven't you?" Spot asked. "You can take a break if you want, just be on call. Think of it as a congratulations present for all the hard work you've been putting in."

Gadget beamed again before racing off, most likely searching for his friends in order to brag to them that he had gotten a 'congratulations present' from Spot; that had rarely ever happened.

"So you don't have any more goals at all, right? …If you've already got Brooklyn and you don't want anything else," Slingshot said, jumping back to their previous conversation in the hopes of salvaging it.

"Yep," Spot agreed, returning to his normal, closed-mouth self.

"So what keeps you running? …Living the day without offing yourself?" Slingshot asked, trying one more time.

"Don't know," Spot answered in what was most probably a lie before walking out the door.

"Wait," Slingshot called after him, trying once again even though he knew at this point he probably wouldn't get anything. "So if we're all a family…what does that make you and me? Brothers?"

Spot shrugged, "If you want."

* * *

"Wake the fuck up," Bumlets demanded, shoving Jack away from him. "It's bad enough I had to sleep in the same bed as you, now you won't even get up? You sure as hell better be delirious if you think I'm going to let you hang out here while I go to school." 

Jack mumbled a little before turning over.

"Get your fat ass out of my bed," Bumlets shouted even though he wasn't all that irritated. He shoved his foot on the curve of Jack's back, effectively knocking the other boy off the bed.

"Ow," Jack's muffled voice complained. "What am I doing on the floor?"

"Getting ready to go to school," Bumlets explained, swinging his legs over the bed and going directly into the shower.

"Hey! What am I going to do until you get out of the shower? I could've slept another twenty minutes!" Jack shouted, angry at being woken up earlier than he had to be.

"Make breakfast," Bumlets suggested, "It's the least you can do for sleeping on me all night. You know where everything is."

"What? How come I'm the one that has to make breakfast? I need a shower too, you know," Jack called back, not really waiting for an answer before heading into the kitchen.

"Hey Bumlets…er…I mean Jack," Dutchy greeted as he walked in through the front door that led right into the kitchen. "You know, it's Bumlets who usually makes breakfast for all of us."

"I know," Jack growled, being on the other end of Bumlets' breakfasts practically every day.

"I don't think you're up to it," Dutchy cautioned. "Bumlets' cooking is like food laced with LSD; you can't top that."

"He had to take a shower," Jack explained around the wooden spoon that was in his mouth. His hands were busy getting pots and pans out of another cabinet.

"What are you making?" Dutchy asked in curiosity. "Whatever it is you're eating it before I do."

"Eggs," Jack answered, dropping the spoon onto one of the counters. "I can't mess up eggs…right?"

"Just what kind of eggs are you making?" Dutchy replied, "Because I don't ever remember making eggs in a pot that big. I think what you're looking for is a skillet."

Jack growled in frustration, "Help me with this, would ya? I've never made breakfast before."

"Never?" Dutchy asked, reluctantly putting the pots and pans away before he got out a skillet and a whisk. "Wow…are you serious? Why not?"

"No house, remember?" Jack asked. "No house, no kitchen, no breakfast; the concept's pretty easy to understand…or so I thought."

"Yeah, yeah," Dutchy brushed off, pretty much making the eggs himself by now. "I already have Skittery and Itey making fun of me at every turn," he pointed out while cracking an egg one-handed, "I don't need you to join in too."

The front door opened again, this time producing Skittery. "Morning, Stupid," he greeted, "Morning, Dutch."

"Wow," Dutchy marveled, finally done emptying the egg shells, "I think that this is the first morning ever you didn't call me by an insulting name when you greeted me. Am I dying or something?"

"That one's just as clichéd as the last, Moron," Skittery pointed out. "Find some better material, would you? The complete and total lack of originality is not a friend of mine."

"Whose friend?" Bumlets asked, emerging from the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Mine," Skittery replied, not really explaining anything to Bumlets.

"Ah, I see," Bumlets lied before going into his bedroom to get some clothes.

"I'm taking a shower," Jack announced, leaving the eggs to Dutchy (he wasn't really helping anyway and he wasn't going to go out of his way to pretend he was).

"Just hurry up," Dutchy demanded. "Breakfast is almost done, which means Itey's almost herre which means our ride to school will almost begin, which means school will almost start."

"That was a terrible run-on sentence, Dutchy," Bumlets scolded, walking out of his bedroom now fully clothed. "All we're eating is eggs? At least make some toast or something."

"Make your own toast," Dutchy demanded, "I'm already busy with making _your_ breakfast."

"Dutch…I always make breakfast and everyone always seems to finish off everything before I've even finished it. Not only that, but I also take suggestions. Now, I think I can have at least one break every once in awhile, don't you agree?" Bumlets explained with a warning look.

"Fine, fuck, fine," Dutchy replied in irritation, "I'll make the fucking toast. Jesus, what are you? A slave driver or something?"

"Is the food done yet?" Itey asked, walking through the front door and sniffing the air. He wrinkled his nose as soon as he saw Dutchy at the stove. "Why's Dutchy cooking? He'll never be able to top anything Bumlets has made."

"Shut up," Dutchy snapped in irritation.

"Well?" Itey asked, eating the eggs even though they weren't yet deemed 'ready'. "Are we going or what?"

* * *

"Yeah, look…I am sorry about all of this," Racetrack apologized to Blink and Mush as soon as he met them in the school parking lot. "I mean…I know you both hate driving and I can't believe my mom didn't even let me call either of you last night." 

"Calm down," Blink demanded, "We have more problems than just driving. You aren't allowed to hang out with us any more? Why?"

"My mom found some of my gambling tickets," Racetrack tried to explain without letting his shame at his action get in the way, "Then, of course, she decided that the best course of action would be to blame you two. After that…she declared that I couldn't see you guys ever again."

"Shit," Blink cursed, "And we can't even hang out at school because your mom's _here_ too. So? What are you planning to do?"

"I don't know," Racetrack lied, not wanting to confess to his friends that he was planning on going to Sean for help. "But I'm sure I'll think of something. Until then it looks like the parking lot at the school is the only place we can talk."

"Don't risk it," Mush warned, "You should probably do what your mom says for now. I can't imagine that making her even angrier is a good idea. Blink and I will steer clear of you for now. Don't try to talk to us unless you come up with something and need our help."

"Yeah," Blink agreed. "And we'll try to come up with something too, alright?"

"With all of us working on it a solution has to come up, right?" Mush asked.

"Of course, Mush," Racetrack assured, "I'm sure we'll figure out what to do in no time.

"So do you know what your mom's going to do? I mean…it sounds insane but I don't think that you not being able to hang out with us any more is going to be your only punishment," Blink said.

"She hasn't said anything to me yet," Racetrack answered, "But she was talking to my father last night and you know how he is with gambling. There's no doubt that he'll throw in some more conditions to the punishment."

"Any idea what he'll do?" Blink asked, knowing that he was probably not going to be talking to Racetrack again anytime soon.

"I'll probably be grounded for all of eternity," Racetrack groaned, looking completely lost and so unlike himself in that moment. "I'm in such shit right now."

"Hey, don't worry," Mush tried to persuade, attempting to turn everyone's thoughts more optimistic. "I know it seems really bad right now, but I'm sure you'll get through it. And Blink and I will be pulling for you anyway we can…even if we can't physically hang out with you anymore."

"Thanks guys," Racetrack smiled.

* * *

"Hey Sean," Itey greeted as soon as he saw the other boy leaning against the usual wall. "Weird. Are we late or are you early?" 

"I'd say a little bit of both," Swifty answered, bringing everyone's attention to him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Skittery asked, glaring at Swifty. "Don't tell me you still want to be friends. Jesus…not only are you annoyingly persistent, but you're also annoyingly friendly."

"I'm hanging out with Sean," Swifty smirked, as if he had just won the argument. "But if you don't want me here I guess Sean and I can always go hang out somewhere else."

"First, I'm not going anywhere," Sean spoke up, "Second, everybody shut the fuck up because you're ruining my cigarette. If you can't get along either don't talk to each other or try and kick the other's ass. Jesus…how hard is that?"

"It's not that I don't like them," Swifty tried to explain, "It's just that when I tried to talk to them yesterday they just shot me down without even letting me explain why I did what I did."

"Oh, shut _up_," Skittery demanded, "This isn't an episode of Full House. Just because you explain why you did something isn't going to make me forgive you. It doesn't change the fact that you did it."

"Exactly," Itey backed up.

"I'm sorry," Swifty tried, "It's just that…"

"Apologies don't change the fact it happened either," Bumlets pointed out.

"What is it you want me to do?" Swifty asked, feeling irritated, "Nothing will change the fact that I did it."

"Right," Dutchy answered, nodding his head. "I think that's the point."

"No offense, Sean, but I'd rather have my cigarette where the air doesn't reek of dumb ass," Skittery said, beginning to walk away.

"And I'd like to have mine where the air reeks of hot ass," Itey explained, following right behind Skittery.

"I'll stay," Bumlets decided, taking out a cigarette. "I have no doubt those two are going to smoke in Itey's car where I have a feeling they're going to decide fucking is a good idea…whether I'm there or not."

"Ew…good point," Dutchy replied, taking out a cigarette as well, "I'd rather stay here too."

"So does that mean I can talk to you guys without getting my head bitten off?" Swifty asked.

"Don't count on it," Bumlets confessed. "Something about you just makes me want to crush your spirit…even more so than with Dutchy."

"You want to crush my spirit?" Dutchy asked, looking worried and upset.

"Just a little," Bumlets admitted, "I try not to, but you make it so easy it's incredibly difficult."

"Hey! Sean!" Racetrack's voice cut through, "I need you. I mean…I need to talk to you…right now."

"Something that couldn't have waited until first period?" Spot asked, looking down at his half-smoked cigarette. "You're not going to make me give up my cigarette," he warned, "Nothing's _that_ important."

"True addict personality," Bumlets pointed out, the only person seemingly calm about Racetrack's presence.

"It's fine, we can stay out here and you can still smoke and everything but…I need to talk to you alone for a minute," Racetrack bargained.

Spot looked around, debating whether to actually go or not. "Rate the importance on a scale of one to ten; ten being the highest," he commanded, "because I'm not going to leave for just some stupid little problem."

"Ten," Racetrack answered without hesitation, "A big ten…an eleven even. Please…just come with me, okay?"

Spot rolled his eyes. "Jesus, fine. But if it turns out your problem is something like you need to copy off my homework or your newest crush doesn't want to speak to you…you can't even imagine how pissed I'm going to be," Spot finally agreed before following Race without putting out his cigarette.

"So what happened to your gay test?" Bumlets asked Dutchy as soon as Spot and Racetrack were out of hearing range. "I would've bet my house you'd start asking Sean questions as soon as you saw him today.

"Shit," Dutchy cursed. "I can't believe I forgot."

"What test?" Swifty asked with curiosity.

"He made up this test to determine if Sean's gay or not," Bumlets answered, "It has the most ridiculous questions you have ever heard on it."

Swifty laughed. "Sean's not gay. There's no fucking way in hell. My cousin's friends with him and told me all these stories about him. Believe me, the guy's gotten more pussy than you could ever imagine."

"No," Dutchy replied, looking crushed, "It's all crap; I won't believe it. Or maybe he's just in denial and sleeping around to prove that he's straight. Or maybe your cousin's just making up stories. Or…or…he slept with guys and told your cousin they were girls."

"He's straight," Swifty assured, "I'd put twenty bucks on it."

"I'm in," Dutchy replied, "Twenty bucks he's gay."

"I know I'm probably going to regret this," Bumlets said when they both turned to him, "But I'm going to throw my support to Dutch and toss in twenty for Spot being gay."

Dutchy beamed, "Thanks Bumlets! You're the best friend a guy could ever have!"

* * *

"What's this stupid problem?" Spot asked as soon as he and Racetrack were in the middle of the parking lot. "It better be fucking intense," he warned before taking a hit of his cigarette. 

"My mom found out about the fact that I gamble," Racetrack confessed, looking worried.

"So?" Spot asked, "What the hell do you want me to do about it? It's not my problem. Fuck, I thought you were going to tell me you accidentally let my profession slip. Your problems are a seven at the very most."

"You don't know my mom," Racetrack insisted, "And you don't know my dad. Please believe me when I say that they're going to kill me. I mean, they are going to absolutely and utterly _kill_ me."

"You shouldn't have done it if the risk was so high," Spot shrugged. "God, why did you even bother telling me? I don't have anything to do with this. Deal with it yourself."

"I don't know how," Racetrack confessed. "And the only one of my friends my mom has ever even remotely listened to his you. I've thought my hardest and I haven't come up with anything. Please, Sean, you've got to at least tell me how to get through this."

"Lay down and take your punishment like a man," Spot answered in all seriousness, deciding to ignore the 'friends' comment for now. "If it gets too bad you can always just leave."

"And go where?" Racetrack asked. "They're my _parents_, Sean, I can't just take off. They'll worry about me. Plus, they can always just call the police and make me come back."

"I can send one of my boys to kill them for you," Spot suggested.

Racetrack's eyes widened. "Are you serious? No! What don't you get about the fact that they're my _parents_! …My _parents_, Sean."

"Am I going to have to listen to more I-love-my-family crap? Because I don't really think I can stand any more of that this morning," Spot answered in irritation.

"I'm asking for your advice," Racetrack pointed out. "What would you do in my situation?"

"I wouldn't ever _be_ in your situation," Spot replied. "What'd you do? Leave your gambling tickets lying around?" he asked, knowing he was right when Race just looked at the ground. "It's a stupid, dumbass, amateur move and I wouldn't ever be so idiotic as to do that to myself."

"Sean, please, _please_ help me," Racetrack pleaded, his voice cracking a bit, "You're the only even sliver of a possibility I have to make my mom let up on me. I can't hang out with Blink and Mush anymore and _that's_ the rule she gave me without even thinking about my actual _punishment_."

"I told you my help was a one time thing," Spot answered with a sigh, "You're too much work. Plus, you're the one that gets yourself into these messes; why the hell do you always want my help getting out? It's not my job."

"I didn't even _ask_ for your help last time though," Racetrack pointed out.

"But you agreed to the terms," Spot reminded him. "What did I say? I said 'this is the last time.' Didn't I? You agreed to that."

"But I didn't know this was going to happen!"

"It doesn't matter," Spot insisted before smashing his cigarette under his foot. "I hope you're happy; your whining just completely _ruined_ my smoke break. As if I haven't had _enough_ problems this morning."

"You want something out of it?" Racetrack asked, getting desperate because he had put all his hope in Spot helping him. "All give you whatever I have. Name it and it's yours."

Spot narrowed his eyes, "You're in no way desperate enough to make that type of deal."

"I am," Racetrack assured him, "Whatever you want."

"Please," Spot scoffed, "You don't even know what you're saying. What if I want you to kill someone for me? …Or if I want to recruit you? You possess more than just things. Obviously you aren't the best haggler around. I'll give you some advice: don't even think you can bargain with me and come out on top because you won't even come out even."

"My friends are important to me," Racetrack insisted in a now-calm voice, "My mom's a teacher, meaning I can't even hang out with them at school. I meant what I said: whatever you want."

"You're an idiot, but I appreciate your balls…even if I don't understand what would make you want to risk so much," Spot admitted, "I'll do it, but if you're so sure you're willing to trade in anything and everything you have then I think I'll name my price later."

"Deal," Racetrack agreed, smiling from the weight that came off his shoulders even as a new one made its appearance. He felt worried about the entire 'I'll name my price later' thing, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He and Sean…they were _sort_ of friends, right? Sean wouldn't make him do anything _too_ bad, right? Right.

"Get your ass to first period," Spot demanded as he hopped onto his motorcycle that was parked close to where they were talking.

"You aren't coming?" Racetrack asked, a little taken aback.

"With all the work you just gave me to do?" Spot asked. "I usually just kill the people in my way…it'll be a new experience trying to _convince_ people to do what I want. I have to go prepare."

* * *

"Hey," Dutchy greeted Specs for what was probably the first time as soon as he entered first period. 

"Hey," Specs replied uncertainly, caught off guard. "Wait," he commanded as Dutchy started walking towards his assigned seat.

"Yeah?" Dutchy answered, stopping where he was a turning around.

"I have second period with David," Specs confessed, "What should I do?"

Dutchy looked confused for a minute, bemused as to why Specs was asking _him_ that question. "Uh…ignore him? I don't really know; I've never been in any type of situation even remotely like yours before."

"But I don't know what to say," Specs complained. "I mean, what are you supposed to say to a friend that has a crush on you when you don't like him back? And…and he's a _guy_; it's just _embarrassing_."

"You do realize _I'm_ gay, right?" Dutchy asked, sitting down in a seat next to Specs. "I think I have at least a little right to be offended by what you're saying."

"Well…but I mean…you're not _gay_ gay," Specs tried to explain, "You're just…you know…gay."

"There's only one kind of gay," Dutchy pointed out. "Well…unless you count bisexual…but since I'm not I'm the same type of 'gay' as David is; the-attracted-to-guys kind."

"But you don't have a crush on _me_," Specs told him, "I mean…wouldn't you feel violated if a girl had a crush on you?"

"No," Dutchy admitted, "I'd feel…happy I guess. Boy or girl doesn't really matter. I mean, I wouldn't do anything with her, but I'd be flattered that she found me attractive. I don't think the fact that David has a crush on you is the problem. I think you're just uncomfortable around gays."

"That's unfair," Specs complained. "I'm talking to you, aren't I? And you're…uh…you know…"

"Yeah, see, that's the thing," Dutchy pointed out. "I don't think you really think of me as gay. You said so yourself, remember? I'm not '_gay_ gay', right? I'm not really all that offended or anything; I just think you should be more honest with yourself."

"I'm not looking for you to psychoanalyze me," Specs snapped, "I asked you for advice, not therapy."

"Fine," Dutchy answered, getting up from his seat, "Sorry I stepped out of place."

"Wait, I'm sorry, okay?" Specs replied. "It's just that the last thing I was expected was to be called a homophobe. I mean, I'm not…there's no way."

"Right," Dutchy responded going over to his seat across the room.

"Are you still mad?" Specs asked. "Sit back down."

"Class is going to start soon," Dutchy explained, "And I really don't want to have the teacher yelling at me before the period even starts. You're still sitting with us at lunch, right?"

"Yeah," Specs agreed with a smile, happy to know that at least Dutchy didn't hate him.

* * *

Racetrack wandered into his second period, somehow even more miserable than when his mom had found his betting tickets. Not only had he been surprised to find how much he missed Sean, but he was also feeling incredibly alone. 

Second period had easily been his favorite class since the very beginning of the year. It was an effortless class, which let him take a brief break from all the other pressure his other classes were giving him.

But that was far from being his first reason. First and foremost he had shared this class with his two best friends. His two friends that he had never remembered being without. Unfortunately, he couldn't even talk to them now.

He didn't know which teachers would rat him out to his mother and he didn't really want to take the chance. Regrettably that meant he wouldn't have Blink and Mush in this class to talk to anymore. With that prospect being stolen away from him the class felt a lot more dull and boring.

Shifting a look towards where Blink and Mush always sat (they were waving and looking at him in sympathy but not daring to come any nearer) he decided to sit across the room this time.

He could safely say that he had never felt this shitty in his entire life.

* * *

Specs came into second period with a cautionary walk in his step. He still didn't know what to do about David and fuck him if it wasn't driving him crazy. 

What do you do if your best friend decides they have a crush on you but you don't return it? What do you do if that friend is another guy? What do you say to him? How are you supposed to react? Do you just ignore it and hope that it doesn't come up again? Do you confront him on it? Do you just go along with it to save the friendship?

Those questions (and more) kept popping into his head; many repeating themselves more than four times over.

Put simply, he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing…about anything. He was completely out of his element and he didn't feel the slightest bit happy with it.

"Hey Davy," Specs ventured as he sat down in his assigned seat, deciding that trying to talk through the awkwardness was better than just sitting in an uncomfortable silence. "What's new?"

"Apparently I have a crush on my extremely hot friend," David replied with a harshness that he had never used before.

"What? David! You ruined it by bring up the topic I was trying to avoid," Specs complained.

"Leave me alone Specs," David demanded. "I'm not anywhere near calm enough to deal with you right now."

"Hey, this is your fault to begin with," Specs tried to point out. "If you hadn't said anything to me we would be just peachy-keen right now."

"I was trying to be honest with you," David explained. "I'm sorry if that was a mistake; I'll try to avoid doing it again."

"Honesty isn't always the best thing you can do," Specs lectured, "I would have much preferred _not_ knowing. I mean, look at us now; our friendship is practically over and all because you had to go and do what you thought was the 'right thing'."

"I'm mad at you for being an asshole," David clarified, "And you're mad at me because I called you a crappy friend. This fight was going to come eventually; the fact that I told you I was gay just sped it up."

"Please, we weren't having any problems until you brought up the …you know…the thing," Specs declared.

David hit him in the shoulder and nodded his head towards the door where the teacher was just coming in, signaling that he should shut up now unless he wanted extra homework.

* * *

"So? What do you think?" Skittery asked. "Personally I'm surprised that bottoming question didn't set Sean off. I thought for sure Dutchy was finally going to get punched." 

"I can only imagine your disappointment," Bumlets replied, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but he hasn't given up on this test yet so I still have hope," Skittery said with optimism.

"Great outlook," Bumlets commented, "Too bad you're only ever positive about bad things happening."

"So can I sit here without being insulted today?" Swifty asked, coming up to them much like he had the day before.

"You can't if you're going to be such a pussy," Skittery bargained. "What? Did we make you cry yesterday? Did we hurt your feelings? Well shit…we didn't really mean it; let's be best friends forever!" he mocked.

"Real nice," Swifty replied, rolling his eyes. "It's nice to know you haven't changed much; you're still a complete dick."

"Were you working on that come back all night?" Skittery asked. "Wow, that's really good. I wish _I_ could come up with insults _half_ that good," he continued with sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Stick it up your ass," Swifty demanded.

"Hey!" Skittery quietly exclaimed, faking anger, "Nothing's allowed to come anywhere near my ass unless Itey is somehow involved."

"You're disgusting," Swifty replied in shock. "Are you trying to gross me out or something?"

"Duh," Skittery said with complete honesty, "I'm hoping that it'll make you go away."

"Why can't you at least _pretend_ to be nice to me?" Swifty asked. "Pardon me for thinking things would go just a little bit better today."

"What? Just because you're '_friends_' with Sean (which I don't really believe; he's probably just putting up with you because there's cash involved) you think that I'll just magical decide to like you? You have some pretty fucking intense fantasies there, man," Skittery told him. "And even if Sean did like you for some odd, unexplained reason…what makes you think I'd have enough loyalty to him to actually _stop_ making fun of you? Stop being such a little girl and man up a little."

"What do you want from us?" Bumlets asked, interrupting the argument that Skittery was very clearly winning. "You dump your jock friends so you decide we're the next best thing?"

"I was hoping things could go back to the way they were," Swifty confessed, "I miss what we used to all have with each other. I mean, my new friends are cool and everything, but there's no way I have that same unbreakable connection like I used to have with you guys and the old gang."

"No connection's unbreakable," Bumlets pointed out, "I think we've proven that."

"So that's it? It's just done between all of us? Like what we had didn't matter at all?" Swifty asked, not really believing that to be true.

"You sound as if you're trying to get back together with your boyfriend or something," Skittery observed, "We don't owe you or anyone else anything; stop trying to act as if we do."

"Maybe you should just rejoin track," Bumlets suggested in what may have been considered pity.

* * *

"Your friends suck monkey cock," Swifty said as soon as he met Sean in third period, putting his stuff for the French project on top of the desk. 

Spot blinked in confusion. "When did I get friends?"

"Skittery," Swifty corrected, "Skittery sucks monkey cock."

Spot shrugged, "I can't really say I'm all that surprised by _that_ specific fact; he seems like the type that would try it."

"Do you not even care that I'm pissed off as hell at him?" Swifty asked, noticeably surprised by Sean's lack of reaction.

Spot just shrugged again. "It's your problem, not mine. I have nothing to do with what goes on between you and him. Why are you even complaining to me?"

"He's _your_ friend," Swifty explained. "Can't you make him lighten up a bit?"

Spot rolled his eyes. He wouldn't have even come back if Slingshot hadn't persuaded him to do so; he really shouldn't have. "Skittery doesn't owe me anything," he tried to clarify, "Therefore I can't really ask him to do anything for me."

"Can't you just try?" Swifty tried to bargain.

"The same way Skittery doesn't owe _me_ anything, _I_ don't owe _you_ anything. The only reason I'm even helping you on this stupid project is because it's your cousin I owe something to. Don't go thinking we're friends or I want you around me more than necessary."

Swifty gaped at him for a minute before muttering, "You're worse than Skittery."

Spot smirked; he would have been a little offended to learn anything different. "It's not my fault you assume too many things and don't seem to pick up on subtle hints."

"Let's just get started on this stupid project," Swifty grumbled.

* * *

"Honestly…I don't know what to do," David easily confessed to Bumlets right before fourth period started. 

They were both sitting in their seats, waiting for the teacher to come in and announce what they were supposed to be doing that day.

"I'm proud that you finally stood up for yourself and everything, Dave," Bumlets replied, "But maybe you should cool down a little. You have to take into account that Specs is a little retarded when it comes to people; you have to treat him like you would an egotistical and narcissistic five year old."

"I know, and I've never had any trouble doing that before, but lately…every time I see him I just want to explode," David admitted. "God," he realized in mortification, "I'm such a horrible friend."

"If it makes you feel any better: Specs is worse than you are," Bumlets replied

"Oh god," David whined, burying his head in his hands. "I can't believe this. I shouldn't have ever yelled at him. I shouldn't have ever said anything to him. Things were going fine the way they were; why did I have to go and say something?"

"Look, Mouth, it had to be done," Bumlets explained, "You stood up for yourself; that's a _good_ thing. But now that Specs knows you have a problem why don't you just calm down and talk about it rationally, okay? No more yelling."

"I know, I know, but…I just _can't_," David complained. "Every single time he says something insulting or offensive I just want to scream at him and make him realize why people think he's such a dick. And even worse is the fact that I used to be able to let things like that go. I mean, I've probably just completely ruined our friendship. I admit he gets on my nerves sometimes, but I don't _hate_ him."

Bumlets sighed, not really wanting to say what he was about to say. "You just have to…fuck…I'm going to sound like such a fucking dork." He grumbled, trying to find the right words to voice his advice.

"What? What?" David asked eagerly. "Please Bumlets, just tell me. I need serious help here. I'm in way over my head and I don't know what I'm doing about anything any more."

"You just…god David…I swear…I must really like you or something…" Bumlets trailed off.

"Please?" David begged. "I won't make fun of you or anything," he promised, "You should know that I'm not that type of guy anyway."

"It's not about you making fun of me Davy," Bumlets explained, "It's about the fact that I've always pictured myself as a non-touchy-feely guy."

"Please?" David asked again. "I promise I'll make it up to you. I'm seriously just screwing myself over and I'm more stressed than usual (which is saying something, believe me) and I can't concentrate as well and I'm always feeling nauseous lately and…"

"Relax, I'll tell you," Bumlets finally submitted. "All you have to do is…is talk to him about what you're feeling. God, I can't believe I actually just told someone to _do_ that."

"But…but I still don't know what to say," David replied, still nervous about the entire thing.

Bumlets sighed yet again, "Just tell him what you told me. Tell him that he gets on your nerves a lot but you still like him. Tell him that you find him egotistical sometimes but not enough to want to give up the friendship."

David laughed. "Sounds like something my mom would say," he said.

"Hey man, what did you just tell me?" Bumlets asked. "You promised you wouldn't make fun of me for saying what I said so what's with this 'mom' crap? Did you lie to me?"

"I'm…I'm so sorry, Bumlets," David apologized immediately with wide eyes. "I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I…it just slipped out and…"

"It's cool, Davy," Bumlets assured with a smile, showing that he had just been kidding before. "I don't mind, really. I mean, how do you expect to be friends with someone if you can't make fun of them every once in awhile."

"Really?" David asked, looking amazed and touched, "Do you really consider me a friend?"

Bumlets shrugged, "What else would you call our relationship?"

"Well…um…seeing that we're friends and I don't want to deal with Specs right away but I have lunch with him… Do you mind if I have lunch with you?" David asked.

Bumlets shrugged again. "I don't mind, just uh…don't take anything Skittery or Itey tell you personally."

* * *

"Did you ever play with Barbie when you were a kid?" Dutchy asked Spot as soon as he ran into the others at their normal table. 

"Who the hell is Barbie?" Spot asked.

"Hey Itey, do you remember how Bumlets got all of my sister's old Barbies?" Skittery asked.

"Why, I believe I do remember that," Itey replied. "Didn't he play with them all the time?"

"Shut up," Bumlets demanded, "I didn't really play with them; I made them clothes to practice for when I became a fashion designer."

"Yeah, because that's just _so_ much better," Skittery agreed sarcastically.

"Do you know what Jack Spade does for a living?" Dutchy asked, jumping right back into his questions.

Spot shrugged, "Never heard of him."

Dutchy groaned, marking another 'x' for failed on the page.

"Bumlets?" Itey asked, looking purposefully at his friend.

"He makes bags," Bumlets reluctantly offered. "And everyone should shut up now."

"Hey," Specs greeted nonchalantly before dropping his lunch tray on the table and sitting next to Dutchy.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Skittery asked, "Who invited you?"

"Dutchy," Specs answered smugly, getting ready to eat his lunch and showing no desire to leave.

Itey shot a glare over to Dutchy. "Well, Dutchy doesn't have a say about who sits with us; he lost that privilege the _last_ time he brought another retarded idiot to sit here; we only need one, thanks though."

"What are _you_ doing here?" Skittery asked again, this time to David who looked about ready to flee. "God damn it! What's with us and other people's inability to leave us alone lately?"

"Uh, sorry," David stuttered, "I guess…I mean…I'll go find somewhere else to sit."

"It's fine, Davy," Bumlets spoke up, "Just relax and sit down."

"Excuse me!" Skittery exclaimed, "Don't invite the enemy over! If you want to fuck him do it on your own time. Don't make your friends suffer through his presence just because you think he'd be a good lay."

"It's fine, Bumlets, really," David agreed. "There aren't any more seats open anyway," he pointed out before beginning to turn away.

"Stop being such a pussy and sit down," Bumlets demanded, grabbing David's hand and pulling him onto his lap. "You want to sit with us right?"

"But…well…" David whispered into Bumlets ear as he ignored the slight blush he was getting, "The only reason you asked me to sit with you was because I didn't want to sit with Specs, right? So, I mean…since he's _here_ there isn't much point in it."

"I invited you to sit with me because we're _friends_," Bumlets corrected, talking quietly enough so that no one else would hear them, "That and I thought you were due for some company that didn't treat you like a complete doormat. If you want to go you can; I'm not going to force you. Just realize that I _do_ want you here; I didn't invite you out of obligation or something idiotic like that."

"Thanks," David replied, now talking loud enough so everyone could hear him, "But aren't you uncomfortable like this?"

"You're a lot lighter than you look," Bumlets commented, moving his legs to show David just how much he jostled, "And if it gets to be too much we can always just grab another seat."

Specs took in the whole scene with badly veiled shock and disgust. "So did you give up on me, Dave?" he asked. "I have to say I never imagined you and Bumlets going out."

"We aren't going out Specs," David answered in an annoyed voice, "We're _friends_. There is a very big difference between the two, even for gay men."

"When did that happen?" Skittery asked, looking more than a little surprised. "I don't ever remember giving Bumlets permission to make friends with stupid idiots."

"Shut up, Skittery," David commanded. He picked up one of his napkins and wiped at Skittery's face not even a second later. "You had a little food right there," he explained in a caring voice.

Skittery smiled. He had forgotten that David was like the mother he never really had. "I love you, David. …More than Dutchy but less than Itey," he said, adding David to the small list of people he actually gave a crap about. "And I wish you and Bumlets and best of luck in your homosexual relationship."

"We both do," Itey spoke up as he laced fingers with Skittery. After all, he and Skitts were a pair; whoever one liked the other one liked as well.

Meanwhile Spot had slipped out of his seat without anyone noticing him. Now that he had done his Be-Nice-To-Swifty duty he had to get out of the school for awhile and continue on with his plans for Race's dearest mother.

* * *

"Hey Cyclops," Skittery greeted happily as he sat down in a seat next to Blink just before sixth period was scheduled to start. "How's my little pirate doing today?" 

"Worse than before you called me 'Cyclops'," Blink answered light-heartedly, "Leave it to you to be offensive to someone even though you like them. I feel sorry for Itey."

"Who says I like you?" Skittery asked, curiosity in his voice instead of anger. "You shouldn't just assume things like that."

"I thought it was a pretty obvious assumption," Blink explained, still not taking offense to what Skittery told him (he had learned to ignore his insulting comments back when they were still friends and he found himself quickly relearning just from one encounter with him). "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"I'm just saying you shouldn't assume things," Skittery replied with his noncommittal answer.

In Skittery-speak (which Blink found himself easily understanding once again) that meant, 'Yeah, I like you, but I refuse to voice my feelings for fear I'll be taken advantage of and/or rejected'.

"Just like you shouldn't assume I won't punch you in the face if you keep calling me 'Cyclops'?" Blink asked, sounding innocent while his facial expressions told Skittery he was being serious.

"Ooh, you got feisty," Skittery pointed out, taking note of the small change. "What happened to the Blink who was overly eager-to-please?"

"Still here," Blink answered, remaining solid in his composure, "I just don't care if people who call me 'Cyclops' on a regular basis like me."

"It's a term of endearment," Skittery attempted to convince him, trying his hardest to make himself look innocent.

Blink rolled his eye, "Yeah, I'm sure. At any rate, let's keep the one-eye comments to a minimum, okay? Besides, it's way over done; I thought you would have had more creativity than that."

"Hey, don't make fun of my insults; they're all I have going for me," Skittery commanded. "Let's make a deal, shall we? If you don't make fun my insults I won't point out the fact that you only have one eye."

"Sounds logical enough," Blink agreed.

"What about pirate? Can I still call you pirate?" Skittery asked after a second's pause.

"If it's referring to my eye patch? No, you may not," Blink answered right away, "And, by the way, calling me a pirate is something else that's been done to death."

"But people like pirates," Skittery tried to persuade, "Pirates are a cool group of mother-fuckers. I dare you to name one person who doesn't think pirates are awesome."

"That's not the point. If you want to say that I'm as awesome as a pirate it's fine, but if you want to say that I look like a pirate because of my eye patch it's not fine," Blink instructed.

"I don't know why you're so sensitive about it," Skittery complained, "Eye patches are hot shit. I'd be totally turned on if I didn't have Itey."

"Thanks, Skitts," Blink replied, sounding unflattered.

* * *

"I'll miss you!" Skittery called out to Itey as he turned and walked to his seventh period class. 

"Make sure to be good!" Itey commanded, knowing that his order would not really be followed. "We're already in enough trouble as it is."

"I'm glad you and Skittery are getting along so well," Mush remarked. "I remember you two used to fight all the time."

"Yeah," Itey agreed, "After great debate we decided that our powers of insult would be greater used if we teamed up. Plus, most of it aimed at each other was just sexual frustration anyway. Once we got that out of the way things smoothed out rather nicely."

"Well…good then," Mush replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable with how the conversation was turning out.

"So did you ask Blink what was going on between him and Skitts?" Itey asked, walking Mush to his seat before sitting down next to him.

"I think they bonded over the fact that they both know Sean," Mush answered. "I am glad they're friends again, even though I wish they found something better to connect over."

"So I take it you don't like Sean very much?" Itey asked. "I can't say I'm really surprised; I'm actually kind of shocked that he hasn't gotten anyone to full out hate him yet. So…what'd he do to you?"

"He's just…" Mush tried to explain, knowing he shouldn't bring up the fact that Sean was actually the Brooklyn gang leader, "He's just…dangerous."

"Dangerous? Well, I guess he could come off as scary or whatever…but I haven't really seen him do anything, you know? I mean, while I wouldn't be surprised if he _did_ do something I'm not going to dislike just the guy because I think he _might_. He didn't do anything to you, did he? If he did I could try talking to him for you. It might not help, but a try's a try, right?"

"I wouldn't," Mush advised. "I mean, he didn't really do anything to me…I just…well…there's a very good chance he might hurt Racetrack, but I can't even talk to Racetrack about it because of his mom and I'm just really worried about the whole thing."

"I know Sean comes off as some mean kid most of the time but he's really nice…well kind of nice," Itey tried to comfort. "If it makes you feel any better he took Bumlets home last night and Bumlets is as fine as ever."

"Yeah but there's…_stuff_ you don't know about him," Mush insisted, "And it's…_stuff_ that Racetrack knows so…I guess I'm afraid something will happen to Racetrack if he gets in too over his head."

"What stuff?" Itey asked. "Are you sure I don't know? No offense but…I hang out with him more than you do so…shouldn't I know more about it than you?"

Mush shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "I really shouldn't tell you so you have to promise that you won't tell anyone else, okay?"

"Okay," Itey agreed, "I promise. I won't even tell Skittery."

"He's… You know that big gang Brooklyn has?" Mush asked quietly.

"No," Itey confessed. "But keep going anyway. Okay, so Brooklyn has this big gang…"

"Sean's…he's the…the leader," Mush struggled to say, already feeling the guilt of breaking a promise. "You can't say anything to anyone, okay?"

Itey blinked a few times. "So he's the leader of a gang?" he asked quietly. "Kick _ass_. I'm friends with a gang leader. Man, wait until I tell Skittery!"

"No!" Mush scolded. "You can't tell anyone! You promised, remember? Please. If too many people know then Racetrack will be in even more trouble."

"Okay, okay. I swear I won't tell a soul," Itey tried to placate. "But you are right. That fact _does_ make Sean seem even more dangerous."

"You think Racetrack will be okay?" Mush asked, still worried about his friend's well being.

Itey shrugged. "The most you can do is just watch out for him. I know it doesn't sound like a lot, but at this point it's as much as you can do."

"But I can't," Mush complained, "His mom hates me and he got in trouble so now he can't talk to me any more. Will you…I mean…can you check up on him and see how he's doing?"

"Sure, Mush," Itey agreed. "You did the same for me with Blink and Skitts; how could a say 'no'?"

Mush breathed out a sigh of relief, "Thanks Itey. Really…you have no idea how much you just helped me."

* * *

Sean wandered into eighth period late wondering if he should skip or not. He had his motorcycle so he could easily just leave and go back to Brooklyn, but he needed to wait for Racetrack to be done with school so his plan could start to fall into place. 

He could just wait outside and smoke since that was the normal routine, but he had begun to grow pretty bored with just standing around outside for an entire period.

"Well, look who finally decided that he's brave enough to come back," Masson pointed out as soon as he saw the new kid.

Sean rolled his eyes, not really bothered by the comment. This kid was full of shit…trying to trash talk him when _he_ was the one who had lost the fight the last time. "Trying to look tough for your boyfriend?" Sean asked nonchalantly.

"What?" Masson asked, quickly going from cocky to piss off. "You little fag! I'll teach you to make from of me!"

Sean sighed, "You're so unoriginal. I say you have a boyfriend so you call me a fag? How big is your brain? Because I'm guessing that it has less mass than a common house fly."

"You…you fucking… I'll teach you to make fun of me, you fucking momma's boy!" Masson shouted before lunging towards Sean.

"That insult doesn't work," Sean criticized, easily dodging the attack. "Since I don't have a momma. Nice try though," he added sarcastically.

"Hey man, maybe you should just leave before you get your ass kicked," Jack advised, stepping up to be beside Masson.

"You think I'd let myself get beat by two sexually-repressed faggots?" Sean asked. "I don't think my ego could take the blow, sorry."

"Excuse me?" Masson retorted, taking a step up from where he was standing. "I get pussy, mother-fucker; I'm far from being a sexually-repressed faggot."

"And who would have thought that a guy who likes tits so much would actually be gay, right?" Sean replied, "All football players are sexually-frustrated fags; why the hell else do you think someone would invent contact sports except to be able to get some dick without having to admit to being gay?"

"That's some nice talk for someone who looks so much like a girl," Jack insulted.

"Yeah," Masson scoffed, "You're face just _screams_ sexually-frustrated faggot."

"Just because I look like a girl doesn't mean I'm a sexually-repressed faggot. It actually means the exact opposite. I am, in fact, a very sexually fulfilled faggot," Sean smirked. "Just ask the guy I had sex with last night," he advised before turning away, deciding that anything was better than dealing with the idiots at gym.

* * *

"Can you name any Broadway shows?" Dutchy asked, jumping right on Sean as soon as he saw him standing along their wall. 

Sean glanced down at his half-smoked cigarette in thought. "Isn't their one called 'Rental' or something?"

"RENT," Bumlets corrected, taking out his own cigarette and lighting up. He continued when Skittery gave him a pleading look to go on, "There's also Avenue Q, Chicago, Hairspray, Les Miserables, Mary Poppins, Lion King, Spamalot…."

"That's good," Skittery interrupted, finally stopping him, "I can't go home _too_ enthusiastic; my mom will make me do chores. She likes to crush my happiness just a _little_ too much.

Dutchy flipped through his notebook in distress, just now realizing that he was out of questions for his test and Sean had gotten everyone of them wrong.

"What's up with you?" Bumlets asked, looking at Itey, "Don't you usually break in with the comfort sex as soon as Skittery even hints a mention of his mother? Why aren't you making out?"

"Yeah!" Skittery agreed, "Why _aren't_ you making out with me? I miss the warmth of your lips on my tongue."

Itey shrugged, "Just something someone told me."

"What?" Bumlets questioned, not really curious but thinking Itey would want to talk about it.

Itey shook his head, "I promised him I wouldn't tell a single soul."

"What'd he tell you?" Skittery asked, seemingly ignoring his fuck-buddy's former sentence.

"I'll tell you later," Itey replied with excitement, "It's so intense."

"Are you gay?" Dutchy burst out, not looking as if he had directed his question to anyone in particular before he threw his notebook towards the parking lot.

"Half," Itey and Skittery answered together.

"No," Bumlets replied.

"Duh," Sean responded.

"What?" Dutchy asked, barely able to contain his shock. "Seriously?"

Bumlets smiled (happy he and Dutchy had won the bet with Swifty) while Itey and Skittery were busy looking as if someone had stomped on their puppy (disappointed that Dutchy's miserable ness was coming to an end).

"Well…uh…I really like you and…" Dutchy stuttered, "You want to…you know…go out and stuff?"

"I'm not _that_ much of a fag," Sean replied before he spotted Racetrack and began to walk away.

"B-but…what?" Dutchy stuttered to a Sean that could no longer hear him.

Itey beamed before chuckling to himself. "I guess he doesn't do that whole 'date' thing, huh? I bet he just goes around getting his brains fucked out but random guys."

"Come on, Dutchy," Bumlets said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Let's go get you nice and drunk."

* * *

Racetrack was standing in front of his car…his very smashed, very messed up car. There was an overly suspicious little kid beaming at him while playing around with a metal bat. 

"Did…did you do this?" Race choked out.

"It's a nice job, right?" the kid asked with something that had to have been pride in his voice. "Probably some of my best work. I can't wait to see Spot's face when he takes a look at this."

"What the hell does Spot have to do with this?" Racetrack asked, already making a pretty good guess.

"Calm down," Spot commanded, appearing behind him. "Think of this as a casualty for the greater good. You said I could have anything I wanted so I figured you could stand a damaged car. Plus, you don't have anyone to hang out with anymore anyway and this'll keep you away from me after school."

"You…you…you asked this stupid little kid to beat the shit out of my car?" Racetrack asked, completely shocked by the situation. "He… Look at this! It's completely and utterly ruined! I'm never going to get enough money to repair this damage!"

"Relax," Gadget ordered, leaning against the bat, "I'm experienced at this kind of stuff. I made sure to make it look two times as bad as it really is. You replace the body of the car and it's practically as good as new. And, as a side note: I'm not a little kid; I'm fourteen goddamn years old and I've been through more than you could ever imagine."

"Wh-wh-why?" Racetrack asked Spot, pretty much ignoring the little kid. "What the hell made you think this would be a good idea?"

Sean rolled his eyes as if the answer was obvious. "Because now I can drive you home, and get the excuse to formerly meet the bitch of a woman you call your mother."

"No you don't!" Racetrack shouted, "She works here, Sean! She drives to work in her _own_ car! She's just going to give me a ride home! All _you_ managed to do was to deprive me of a car! Oh my god!"

"She drives that horrid blue truck, right? License plate number AH93DB?" [1Sean asked calmly.

"Oh god…what the hell did you do to her car?" Racetrack asked, immediately feeling even worse.

"Nothing," Sean answered innocently, "I just saw some punk drive off with it is all."

"You _stole_ my mom's car?" Racetrack whispered with disbelief.

Sean smirked, giving Racetrack a shove towards the school building. "Go ask for your mother to drive you home. When she can't, go look for me. I'll be in the library studying my little brains out."

* * *

[1 License plate number? Made it up by pressing down on keys. So please don't go around thinking I didn't. I have no idea if this is an actual plate number or not, but please don't go around trying to find out.

* * *

A/N:

So this chapter's almost ten thousand words, which is a lot longer than I planned it to be. Please forgive me if you don't like long chapters. Chapter twelve should (SHOULD...no promises here) be less of a ridiculous length.

Speaking of future chapters I'm so crazily excited for them. Some of you know some things...others don't know anything at all. Either way, it's all beyond exciting for me. But, to be nice, if you'd like to join me in my excitment my offer to give people hints is still open; just ask me in a review (if you've already done this and feel like you might want some more ask me again. You might get some of the same hints depending upon if they've happened at this point or not but I promise there will be some new ones thrown into the mix).

As always, please review and I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as I can.

P.S. Have you seen how many words I have so far? I have never written a story this long before and I'm not anywhere near done yet. Yay me! Thanks for sticking with me up until this point! I can only hope that you'll continue to do so.


	12. Skittery Is Not a Bitch

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_, you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:** Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here.

Summary of Chapter 11:

-Racetrack asks for Spot's help to evade his punishment for gambling  
-Specs continues to struggle with the fact that David's gay  
-Skittery shoots down Swifty again even though he's now 'friends' with Spot  
-Spot starts to help Swifty on their French project  
-Specs and David sit with Bumlets, Dutchy, Skittery, and Itey  
-Mush tells Itey about Spot being the gang leader of Brooklyn  
-Spot tells his gym class that he's gay  
-Spot tells Dutchy that he's gay  
-Spot gets his gang to smash Racetrack's car and steal Racetrack's mom's car just so he has an excuse to drive the two of them home

Getting Back Together Again

**XII  
Skittery Is Not a Bitch**

"I am so sorry to have disturbed your studies," Mrs. Higgins apologized from the front of a car Racetrack had seen in the parking lot the Brooklyn gang used. "I don't understand how my car got stolen in the school parking lot in the middle of the day and…well…poor Anthony's car…I just can't believe it."

Spot shook his head, as if ashamed with humanity. "I really don't know what could drive a person to do something like that," he lied while driving with both hands on the wheel and paying close attention to the speed limit.

"It's downright shameful," Mrs. Higgins confessed. "Most children today don't know the first thing about consideration. What in the world would compel someone to just _smash_ a car for no reason?"

"I can't even begin to think of a reason," Spot replied, carefully stopping at a traffic light.

Racetrack rolled his eyes from the backseat. He would have been completely disgusted with this display if he hadn't known Sean was doing it in order to help him.

"I'm just worried that something will happen to make my Anthony turn out like that. You know he gambles? I found out last night and I just couldn't believe it," Mrs. Higgins easily admitted.

Racetrack creased his eyebrows together. His mother never opened up this fast…ever. What the hell was Spot doing (and so easily too, it seemed) that would make his mother act this way. His mind was directing him towards some sort of drug Spot had managed to slip her somehow, though he dearly hoped that wasn't the case.

"It may be too bold of me to say, Ma'am," Spot began timidly, "but my older brother went through a similar problem. My parents sent him to this rehabilitation place specifically for gambling addicts. I probably still have their phone number in my wallet. I could give it to you if you want. He had the best counselor; very strict, but incredibly caring at the same time. It did wonders for my brother so maybe it'll help Tony."

"Oh my," Mrs. Higgins answered, appearing very flattered, "That would be so sweet of you!"

Racetrack's eyes became wide in disbelief. Spot was trying to get him to go to rehab? _That_ was the great gang leader's plan? What the hell? This was not getting him out of the problem! This was making the problem more of a hassle!

Spot pulled into the driveway and parked the car before beginning to reach for his wallet. "This is their card," he explained, handing a business card over to Racetrack's mother. "All their information is on there. My brother's counselor was John Terry, if you want to talk to him. I've been there a couple of times to offer my brother support, so the counselor should remember me."

"You are just an angel," Mrs. Higgins gushed before stepping out of the car. "Let's go, Anthony," she said in a much stricter tone of voice.

"Coming, Mom," Racetrack replied before beginning to undo his seatbelt. "Rehab?" he muttered quietly from behind clenched teeth.

"Isn't your gambling addiction the problem you wanted me to take care of?" Spot smirked.

"Come _on_, Anthony," Mrs. Higgins snapped from the front door.

"Yes Mom," Racetrack agreed before hopping out of the car, glaring at Spot the entire time.

* * *

"Are you serious! Ah man, I can't believe I can't tell anyone!" Skittery replied as soon as he had heard the truth about Sean. 

"But you can't," Itey lectured, "We've got to keep this a secret. Who knows what'll happen if more people find out."

"But _you_ got to tell someone," Skittery complained, "And you even promised Mush you wouldn't. Why don't I get the same privilege?"

"First, because Mush doesn't mean as much to me as I do to you, therefore a promise between us is more important than a promise between Mush and me. Second, Mush should have realized that you and I are like one person; what one knows the other knows as well, therefore, telling _me_ is telling _you_. Third, I'd like to think that you're better at keeping secrets than I am," Itey listed on his fingers.

"Your expectations for me are too high," Skittery complained. "But you're just so cute I can't help but follow them."

"Whoever said attractiveness doesn't pay off was a god damned, mother-fucking liar," Itey replied smugly.

"Can I talk to Blink about it?" Skittery asked.

"No!" Itey answered instantly, "You can't tell anyone, okay?"

"But he probably already knows! I mean, he and Mush are like you and me and there's no way _we_ could ever keep something from the other…let alone something this big," Skittery explained.

"It doesn't matter," Itey insisted, "You aren't supposed to know at all, remember? And neither am I for that matter. Listen, whatever we do we have to make sure that Sean never knows we know, okay?"

"He can't find out you and Mush are blabber mouths," Skittery reiterated, "I got it."

"So…?" Itey asked eagerly, "I didn't just tell you to tell you. What do you make of it? You're so much better at reading people than I am, after all."

Skittery shrugged. "I never figured he'd be a gang leader," he admitted, "I just thought he had a messed up childhood or something. Although, looking at it now it does seem to fit pretty perfectly, despite his extremely girly figure."

A few seconds of silence followed before Itey found the need to speak up. "And? That can't be the end of your analysis. I have to say, I was expecting a lot more than that. Okay, let me pose this question: if we tell Sean that we know what he does what do you think he'll do?"

"Treat us as a liability, maybe kill us if he thinks we're too much of a threat," Skittery answered dispassionately. "At any rate, I don't think the fact that we've hung out with him will matter much, if that's what you're trying to ask."

"I can't help wondering if your answer is based on what you know about Sean or your pessimism," Itey admitted, "But I really hope to god most of it is just your pessimism."

"Could be both," Skittery shrugged. "But I do think that you shouldn't mess with him. In this case playing games with him doesn't seem like the best of ideas."

"Obviously," Itey agreed, rolling his eyes. "So we just ignore it?"

Skittery nodded once, "That's my thought."

* * *

"Hey Spot," Slingshot greeted, not at all looking ashamed that he had been caught in his boss's room going through his stuff. 

"Looking for something?" Spot asked, easily keeping his composure. "You should probably ask me instead; if I catch you in here along again I might not be able to contain my displeasure."

"…And you'll kill me," Slingshot finished for him, sounding unworried. "Threat received, sir. Though I think if you used that specific warning a little less often it'd be more potent, but then that's just my opinion on it."

"I think the fact that you're better to me alive than dead helps your chances of survival too," Spot commented. "Though I can't help but feel as if you think I won't kill you no matter what you do, and you should know that that isn't true at all."

"What? The ruthless gang leader of Brooklyn sparing someone's life just because of his affection for them? I'm not that stupid. I just have confidence in my usefulness is all," Slingshot explained.

"A pile of dog shit would look useful measured up to some of the people around here," Spot reminded him. "Make sure you're comparing yourself to the more helpful people."

"I have never once compared myself to Hunter," Slingshot confessed with pride. "And I can't think of any situation where I would."

"What did you need from my room?" Spot asked, changing the subject when he was satisfied with the answer. "Whatever it was I think I can correctly guessed that you have no idea where it is," he observed, looking at all his previously put-away things now strewn about. "You realize, of course, that I'm going to make you clean up this mess."

"Leave for an hour and this room will look as good as new," Slingshot promised. "How much money do you have on you?"

"That's what you were looking for?" Spot asked, not really appearing all that surprised. "I found a new place for it; I wouldn't suggest searching around again."

"How much do you have lying around?" Slingshot questioned, already beginning to clean up his mess.

"A couple hundred I would say," Spot guessed.

"Can I borrow it?" Slingshot inquired.

"Going to pick up a prostitute?" Spot posed. "I never realized you were so desperate."

"I think you took care of all my desperation last night," Slingshot chuckled. "This is for a real date…though if you want you can call it another _form_ of prostitution. People might start thinking of you as crude though."

"As if they don't already," Spot smirked, offering his second-in-command a roll of twenties, "Here, but it's your allowance for the rest of the month."

"Fair enough," Slingshot agreed, pocketing the money without even bothering to count it. "So? Is there anything I have to do before I leave?"

"Call Rambler and tell him to come over later tonight for some urgent business," Spot replied, "Other than that you're free, just keep your cell phone on in case I change my mind."

"Hey," Speed greeted from the doorway, "I heard you were going on a date. Boy or girl? Hunter and I have a bet going between us; I'll give you twenty bucks if you say it's a boy."

"Low chances for Slingshot being gay?" Spot asked, not really caring.

"Not really," Speed admitted, "Hunter just thinks that because you guys fuck each other and you only go out with girls and Slingshot's only been going out with girls you two have got some twisted agreement that says you're the only guys you fuck."

"Spot's not really the possessive type…at least when it comes to people," Slingshot explained.

"When have I gone out with a girl? Because I think I would really remember that happening," Spot said.

"Rumors probably," Slingshot wrote off.

"More like you're telling more lies about me," Spot replied back, rolling his eyes. "I don't mind it unless I'm kept in the dark. I've told you that before, right?"

"So?" Speed interrupted, "Boy or girl?"

"Boy," Slingshot answered, holding out his hand for the twenty bucks.

"Liar," Spot commented (knowing that purely from instinct). He started to turn away, "Talk to Rambler."

* * *

"Movie?" Itey asked as he drove his car around aimlessly with Skittery. 

"Not really in the mood to force myself to watch some stupid romance-tragedy shit while everyone around me cries," Skittery shot down.

"We don't _have_ to see a chick flick," Itey pointed out.

"Action movies piss me off because they're too unrealistic, kids' movies piss me off because talking animals creep me out, philosophical movies piss me off because I don't like to think outside school, humor pisses me off because it's never funny, drama pisses me off because they always over-exaggerate everything, films about war piss me off because me favorite character always dies, westerns piss me off because they're so blatantly gay no matter what, adventure pisses me off because the ideas for them are always so retarded, musicals piss me off because singing and movies aren't supposed to mix, science fiction pisses me off because I always get jealous of the futuristic technology they have, and you always piss your pants when you're within thirty feet of a horror movie," Skittery listed off. "Next."

"We could go get some dinner."

"Not hungry."

"We could go to a coffee shop."

"Not thirsty."

"We could hang around the mall."

"Not a tween."

"Let's just go hang out with Bumlets," Itey groaned, getting frustrated at having no destination.

"We've gone over this before!" Skittery reminded him, "You can't expect to give me juicy gossip like Sean being a gang leader and _not_ expect me to tell Bumlets and/or Dutchy. Tomorrow morning it'll feel like old news but right now…I really don't think I could contain myself."

"God," Itey sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't have ever told you if I had known that it involved avoiding Bumlets and Dutchy like a dieting woman avoids chocolate cake."

"So what do you want to do?" Skittery asked, bringing them back on subject.

"Bowling?" Itey suggested.

"I don't wear other people's shoes," Skittery replied.

"We could hang out at a bookstore."

"I'm not going to spend time looking at books."

"CD store?"

"I don't have any CD's I want and I refuse to go to a store just to _browse_; I am not a teenage girl."

"Sex store."

"We're not eighteen and my parents confiscated my fake ID last week."

"Uh…head shop?"

"_Not_ **eighteen**," Skittery reminded him again.

"We don't need to get drugs. We can get posters or incense or something."

"My parents don't allow posters or incense in my room; they think it'll give me too much positive energy."

Itey smiled, "Aw…isn't that sweet."

"Where else?"

"Jesus…I don't know. Putt Putt Golf?"

"We're banned until the New Year remember? They got all upset because we were allegedly trying to hit people in the head with the golf balls," Skittery recalled.

"_You_ were trying to hit people in the head with golf balls," Itey corrected, "I was just the innocent victim who was assumed guilty by association."

"Well you didn't try and stop me. Not to mention you were laughing the entire time. Name another place."

"The arcade? I know it's juvenile, but it's kind of sweet anyway, right?"

"Banned."

"What? When did that happen? Because I don't ever remember doing anything to get banned."

"_We_ weren't banned; _I_ was banned. I opened up one of their machines and took the quarters out of it once. They said they wouldn't call the cops as long as I didn't come back. I don't really intend on following that rule, but I figured it'd be smart to wait until they forget my face."

"Are you sure you aren't just being paranoid? I'm sure they've forgotten you by now. This must have been like, what? Years ago, right?"

"It was like last week," Skittery admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "Name another place."

"You're the one that keeps shooting down my ideas. _You_ pick something and we'll go there, okay?" Itey bargained.

A few seconds pause and then, "A concert!" Skittery burst out as if it was the greatest idea in the world.

"We can't stay out late enough to see a concert and I refuse to pay to see a concert and not get to see the entire thing...unless it sucks, but we won't know that until after a band comes on," Itey explained.

"Is this pay back or something? I shoot down all your ideas so you have to bring down all of mine?" Skittery asked jokingly.

"We live in New York; you'd think we'd be able to find something to do," Itey growled out.

"Ooh! Let's go to a comic store and make fun of all the nerds there!" Skittery suggested enthusiastically.

Itey shrugged, not too fond of the idea but knowing that would be as good as it got tonight. "Sure. Why the hell not?"

* * *

"Everybody was wondering where you were today," Jack told Swifty as soon as he met him in the coffee shop as planned. 

"You're full of dog shit," Swifty smiled.

"Yeah, well, I missed you at least," Jack confessed. "And I _have_ noticed Masson glance at you from time to time.

"Probably just worried I might rape him or something," Swifty mused. "Hey, man, just because I stopped hanging out with the jocks doesn't mean we can't talk at school, right? I mean, if you miss me you should just sit with me at lunch or something."

"You were sitting with the druggies today, Swift," Jack pointed out. "I'm not sitting anywhere near them at lunch."

"What? You hate them that much? I always assumed you were just humoring Masson," Swifty admitted.

"No, I was," Jack corrected. "It's not so much the druggies I hate but Sean, who sits with the druggies practically everyday."

"He wasn't around today," Swifty tried to comfort. "But…well…David was there and I guess that could be a little awkward."

"A little?" Jack asked. "Swift, I don't think you know just how awkward that conversation is very likely to be. 'Hey David, you little bitch, still refusing to do the French project?' 'Why, yes, Jack, you retarded bastard, I am and I hope with all my heart you'll fail because I hate your guts.' 'Oh, David, you little bitch, you! I've not missed you at all. In fact, I hope Sarah gets fed up with you soon and makes you start sleeping outside.'"

"Somehow I don't think things will go _that_ badly," Swifty replied, rolling his eyes. "You just have to cool your temper and I'm sure everything will be fine. I can't really imagine David saying anything if you don't."

"That doesn't change the fact that I have to put up with him," Jack argued. "Sean and David sitting at the same table I'm at? I really don't think I could handle it. Let's just go eat in the library or something."

"The library? Seriously, Jack? I have to wonder if it's because you want to avoid Sean and David or if it's because you want to avoid the jocks seeing us together," Swifty admitted. "Have I been blacklisted or something?"

"Don't be stupid," Jack easily replied, "You quit hanging out with us because you wanted to, not because you pissed someone off too many times. They aren't going to blacklist you just for not talking to them anymore."

"What about Masson?" Swifty asked, "I freaked him out pretty good."

"Not enough to have you _blacklisted_ though, Swift," Jack assured. "I just want to avoid Sean and David, that's all. So let's eat together in the library tomorrow, okay? I'll meet you in there."

* * *

"Of course they'd kick us out!" Skittery shouted angrily and dramatically at the front of the comic book store they just got booted from. "Because they don't want to hear the truth! They don't want us to tell them that they're NERDS! They're afraid of the truth!" 

Itey grinned, "I think that's enough, don't you, Skitts? People are starting to stare."

"Let them! For I know the truth!" Skittery bellowed. "I know the truth about the comic book freaks! I know they get their heads dunked in toilets! And I know they have hung by their underwear on more than one occasion! And I know they have never made it to lunch with money! I know!"

"What are you screaming about?" Blink's voice cut in through the slight pause.

"Cyclo- Blink!" Skittery greeted with a smile.

Blink just glared at him for a few seconds.

"Why are you shouting?" Mush asked, appearing right beside Blink.

"We got kicked out of the comic book store for making fun of the people buying the merchandise," Itey answered. "Skittery thought we could probably get the cops over here if he carried on enough. I have ten bucks on them not being called."

"Of course not," Blink agreed, "This is the drug district part of town. Nobody's going to want cops coming here unless they absolutely have to."

"Exactly," Itey congratulated, "He's already been shouting for twenty minutes and all people do is just glare at him or flip him off. It's funny, if not a little stupid. Anyway, his voice will be hoarse pretty soon and then he'll have to stop."

"So what are you guys doing here? If you're going to buy a comic book I'm going to have to stop you…it's for your own safety, of course," Skittery said, dropping his voice down to a normal tone.

"We were just wandering around," Mush answered, "My car's low on gas so we parked and decided to find something to do around here."

"Thought of anything good yet?" Itey replied. "We're a little low on gas too and Skittery hates doing pretty much everything."

"I do not," Skittery argued.

"You shot down every one of my suggestions almost immediately," Itey pointed out.

"Yeah, because all of your ideas were crap," Skittery retorted.

"Let's just go get something to eat," Mush proposed, pointing to a café across the street and successfully breaking up the fight between Itey and Skittery.

"Sounds great," Skittery agreed.

"I thought you didn't want to eat," Itey reminded him.

"Well yeah…I wasn't hungry _before_. _Now_ I am and going to a café sounds like an excellent idea," Skittery explained as everybody started walking towards said café.

"You're just trying to irritate me because I won't let you tell anyone what I told you, right?" Itey asked quietly as he and Skittery fell behind.

Skittery smirked, "You know me too well."

"Yeah, well, you annoy me too well so I guess we're even," Itey retorted. "Is my torture over now? I hate to run out of gas before the end of the week."

Skittery thought for a moment, "How about I steal the rest of the gas in your car tonight while you sleep and we can call it even?"

"You're such a bitch," Itey observed. "Seriously…you are being such a bitchy little girl about all of this. I thought you'd be thankful that I'd tell you something like that. If I knew this would happen I would have kept it to myself."

"Relax, I'm just messing around with you," Skittery assured. "You're suggestions really _were_ lame, I _am_ actually pretty damn hungry, I _won't_ steal any of your gas, and even though we've known each other practically our entire lives I _still_ keep you guessing and I know it."

"I love you," Itey said as he held the café door up for Skittery.

Skittery grinned, "Let's try and keep away from all the lovey-dovey crap, okay? We aren't in some romantic comedy for teenage girls to coo over."

"Right," Itey replied. "I guess I forget that sometimes."

* * *

"You have real douche bags for friends," Specs pointed out as soon as he met Dutchy at their designated coffee shop. 

"It's nothing personal," Dutchy tried to tell him. "I mean, they just tend to joke around too much."

"Yeah, and hold grudges over your head for all of eternity," Specs grumbled. "Honestly I don't know how you stand them."

"It's nothing personal," Dutchy claimed, "I mean, they're cruel to everyone; not just me."

"Right, but especially to you," Specs pointed out. "Have you really not noticed that you're the one who gets the worst of their treatment? …And why? You're their friend; you should be one of the people they actually like."

"They like me," Dutchy insisted.

"Yeah…more like they like to make _fun_ of you," Specs corrected.

"It's not as big of a deal as you're making it," Dutchy replied. "It's not like I don't _realize_ they insult me or anything. It's just not this huge thing. After all, who can say they're friends with someone if they can't make fun of that person every once in awhile?"

"That's just it! '…_Every once in awhile_'? Fine; okay; good even. But Itey and Skittery make fun of you _all the time_!" Specs passionately argued.

"I don't mind too much," Dutchy answered. "It's all joking anyway. With Skittery and Itey you have to focus on what they _do_ and not what they say. The fact that they hang out with me and seek me out is enough to know that they don't _really_ hate me."

"Are you sure you aren't just a masochist?" Specs asked, acting as if he already knew the answer.

Dutchy shrugged, "I could be, but at least I never drove any of my friends away and made a complete pacifist yell at me; now that's true masochism."

Specs narrowed his eyes, knowing Dutchy was talking about him and his situation with David. "Don't talk about shit you don't know fuck about," he snapped.

"Same to you," Dutchy order with a calmness that would have made Bumlets proud.

After that it was all awkward pauses and too-polite conversations until they decided to part ways.

* * *

"Okay…okay…let's see…ten-year-old Macaulay Culkin or Jim Gaffigan?" Itey asked. "Pretend having sex with children isn't frowned upon." 

"Uh…Jim Gaffigan…I guess," Mush decided.

"How long would my he be staying with me?" Blink asked.

"Until lunch the next day," Itey made up.

'Jim Gaffigan," Blink answered. "I don't think I could stand Macauly Culkin for that long."

"Would I be able to convince them to do S&M? And if so would they want to be the submissive one or the aggressive one?" Skittery asked, thoroughly going over the question in his head.

"Both of them are open to your suggestions," Itey assured him, "And they'll do whatever you want them to."

"Okay, in that case…Macauly Culkin, provided he'd be into S&M and wants to be submissive. That way I can beat the shit out of him for being so god damn annoying in all those _Home Alone_ movies," Skittery admitted.

"Alright…uh…Justin Timberlake or Brittany Spears?" Mush asked.

"Timberlake," Blink answered easily. "He's annoying but not nearly as annoying as Spears. Plus, I don't think I could ever bring myself to have sex with a girl; that's just gross."

"You're right…they're both annoying," Skittery agreed. "Would they ever sing while I'm fucking them?"

"Er…yeah," Mush decided.

"Then I'd probably go for Brittany; her music is at least a _little_ better than Justin's," Skittery replied. "Though, admittedly, her music is pretty fucking terrible."

"I think I'd actually go for Justin Timberlake," Itey said. "It seems as if he has less baggage than Brittany Spears."

"The game's 'which one would you have a one-night stand with," Skittery reminded him, "Not 'Which would you rather have a relationship with'. I doubt Brittany's baggage would ever come up."

"I just don't want to risk waking up to her crying on me or something," Itey explained, "It'd be a real buzz kill, you know? And I think Justin Timberlake's more attractive anyway."

"But Timberlake's music sucks ass," Skittery argued, "If you tell me you actually like it I swear I will dump your ass."

"I'd just gag him or something," Itey shrugged.

"So…uh…you guys are really together, huh?" Blink interrupted. "It's kind of unbelievable…no offense."

"Eh, we get it a lot," Skittery brushed off. "I can prove it by blowing Itey on the table if you want me to."

"That's okay," Mush replied, "We trust that you're telling the truth."

"Yeah, of course," Blink agreed. "It's just weird because I never saw it coming. What made you two know that you liked each other enough to go out. I mean…this was after everyone went their separate ways, right? Weren't you afraid that when you took that chance you wouldn't ever be friends again?"

Skittery shrugged, "I never really thought about any of that crap. Fuck, even when we almost broke up-"

"…And there were quite a few close calls," Itey interrupted.

"Right, yeah, there really were. Anyway, I never really thought about what it would be like when we actually broke up. I mean, why let those types of things stand in your way when you think you're in love? They all just seemed so inconsequential," Skittery confessed.

Itey smiled, "You actually thought you were in love at one point? I never knew that. That's so sweet, Skitty-poo."

"Yeah well, a lot's changed," Skittery answered.

"Right, anyway," Itey said, clearing his throat and deciding to ignore the fact that Skittery might have once almost loved him (When was it? How had he messed it up? Why hadn't Skittery said anything? Was love too much out of reach now? …But he wasn't thinking about that). "Our first attempt failed pretty badly. It was only after we chose to make another go of it and keep it more light-hearted that things actually started to go in our favor."

"But…I mean…how did you guys even decide to approach each other the first time?" Blink asked. "It just seems so…so mind-boggling."

Skittery laughed, "If you think us going out is so unlikely you'll never believe how we actually got together."

"I was going out with Clara Hopkins at the time," Itey recalled, "She wasn't anything special, but she was kind of slutty and ensured I'd get laid on a daily basis. Anyway, so I was on a date with her or something."

"And then I saw them and came over to say 'hey'," Skittery continued, "But this Clara chick was being a real bitch. I got all pissed off and decided to make her angry."

"So he was like 'Hey bitch, you should be happy I'm letting you take out my man at _all_!' Then he just straddled me and we started making out," Itey said. "Of course, needless to say that was the end of her and the end of my daily fucks."

"He yelled at me about it days and told me he was 'always super horny now' and it was all my fault. I offered to help him with his problem and we've been going out ever since…minus a few bumps along the way," Skittery finished.

"Seriously?" Blink asked. "It happened just like that? I don't believe you. Why the hell did you start making out with him? What made him just go with it so easily? Was it some joke turned bad or what?"

"Tch, I told you you wouldn't believe us," Skittery replied. "Really, I thought friends were supposed to trust each other more than this."

No, we believe you," Mush answered worriedly. "It just takes a minute to absorb it is all."

Itey laughed. "Relax Mush, Skittery's just giving you a hard time. It'd be way too amazing if you two actually believed that story, but that is the way it happened…at least on the surface."

"'…At least on the surface'? What's that supposed to mean? So you didn't really give us the full story?" Blink asked, jumping to attention. "So? Let's hear the whole story then. It's more believable, right?"

"'…More believable'?" Itey repeated with a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so, though it's still kind of…well…out there."

"I didn't just start making out with him on a whim, you know," Skittery confessed, "I had been thinking about Itey for awhile. I went through that whole 'crush' ordeal. I made these completely absurd connections between him and anything that was going on around me, I smiled whenever I thought about him, I went through that whole heart-feels-like-it's-going-to-burst crap; the entire thing."

"This was after I had already comes to terms with _my_ feelings for _him_ and had gotten over the whole thing," Itey continued, "All without Skittery's knowledge…of course I always thought he had his suspicions."

"I was no where near that far in the process yet. Hell, I was still thinking it was normal, everyday, best friend behavior," Skittery said. "That was until I saw Itey with his new slut of a girlfriend. I just felt so extremely jealous I couldn't do anything else _but_ make a move on him."

Itey smiled with fondness, "Skittery's always had a particularly bad jealous and possessive streak in him. Who knew it could be used for good?"

Blink laughed, "You guys are for real? That's so wild! Man, if anyone could pull that story off it'd be you two."

Skittery beamed as he threw an arm over Itey. "We've always been a rather odd pair, haven't we?"

* * *

So this has been on my mind for sometime. I realize that most of my writing is just dialogue and interaction between the characters. I was wondering if it bothered anyone that I don't address the setting much. Should I attempt to change my writing style a bit or is it okay how it is?

Please review. Any ideas/criticism/praise/opinions are greatly appreciated.


	13. Janitor's Closets and Foursomes

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_, you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, and sexual situations. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such

Summary of Chapter 12:

-Spot suggests rehab for Racetrack to Racetrack's mom  
-Itey tells Skittery that Spot's the Brooklyn gang leader  
-Spot occasionally fucks Slingshot, but there are no feelings involved  
-Slingshot goes on a date  
-Dutchy and Specs have an argument  
-Skittery and Itey tell Mush and Blink the story of how they got together

Getting Back Together Again

**XIII  
Janitor's Closets and Foursomes**

"How was your date?" Speed asked without any real curiosity as he looked around his room for his other shoe. "Did you get lucky?"

Slingshot smirked back as he joined the shoe hunt. "Why? Is there another bet going around? Because if there is I want in on it."

Bam laughed, "Nah man, there's no bet going about this _particular_ situation. Why? Do you think we can only be genuinely interested when there's money involved? Your assumptions hurt."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Slingshot replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Shut up about your stupid-ass feelings and help me find my shoe. Find the matching pair to this one," he demanded, holding up the shoe that he had already found. "Either that, or find me another pair of shoes that'll fit. I'm in a rush; anything will do."

"You went on a date?" Gadget asked, jumping down from the top of one of the bunk beds. "I think I heard about that. It was with a guy, right? So…how did it go?"

"Na-huh," Speed interrupted, "You're too young for this conversation, little buddy. Why don't you go downstairs and play Go Fish or something? I'm sure that'll be fun."

Gadget pouted, "I'm fourteen, not _six_; I can handle it. Plus, I'm far from innocent. Why can't I hear what happened?"

"Gang or not you're too damn young," Speed insisted, "Why don't you go find Stealth and hang out with him for a little bit? Does that sound good? I'm sure you'll have an super awesome time with him."

"Stealth's creepy," Gadget argued. "The only person he'll ever even remotely talk to is Spot; he just stares at everyone else. Plus, I'm not all that young and I'm not innocent enough to not know what might happen on a date…even if it was two guys instead of a guy and a chick. The only reason you want me out is because you feel like you want to exclude someone."

"That's exactly it," Speed agreed sarcastically. "But just because you called me on it doesn't mean it's going to change things. Get out of here before I kick you out myself."

Gadget scowled, but started to leave the room anyway, "Fine, fine, I'm going. It's not like I won't find out about it later anyway."

"So? What happened?" Bam asked as soon as their door closed behind Gadget. "You get any action? And if so was it from the dude you went on a date with or from Spot when you got home?"

Slingshot rolled his eyes, "God, you act as if Spot and I go at it every night. We've only fucked a dozen or fewer times. It doesn't actually mean something or anything like that; it's stress relief when there's no one better around. And _I_ do that for _him_; the favor isn't really returned."

"Answer the question," Speed demanded, getting up from the old and slightly tattered chair he was sitting on to help with the shoe-hunt. "Did you fuck your date or did Spot fuck you?"

"Why do you even assume I got some?" Slingshot asked nonchalantly. "God damned shoe, where the hell are you?"

"You were humming this morning, and everyone here knows that when you hum you got laid by someone the night before," Bam pointed out. "Have you checked under the bed?"

"Of course I checked under the bed!" Slingshot answered in exasperation, "That was one of the first places I looked."

"Maybe you didn't look hard enough," Bam offered. "Check again."

"We're getting off track," Speed announced, crawling on the floor and flinging the items that scattered the ground out of his way in his search for the shoe. "Who did the fucking last night and who got fucked? You don't have to be embarrassed or anything; we're all open to homosexual relationships here."

"Well…everyone in this room is at least," Bam finished, "I doubt the majority of the gang would feel the same. Of course, once they find out Spot's gay they might change their tune, but we really shouldn't go risking that. Plus, at _least_ half of them wouldn't believe us anyway."

"Getting off the point again," Speed pointed out, shooting a glare at Bam, "We'll never get it out of him this way."

"I got it!" Bam announced, holding up Slingshot's long lost shoe above his head before quickly scrambling onto one of the top bunks. "Tell us who you had sex with last night or I light this shoe on fire," he threatened, taking out his lighter and flicking it into a flame.

"Tell us, tell us," Speed chanted happily as he kept Slingshot from going anywhere near any of the top bunks.

"I fucked him in the back of an abandoned pick-up truck," Slingshot admittedly angrily, quickly grabbing his shoe as soon as Bam let it drop. "Why the hell did _you_ find it anyway?" he grumbled under his breath, "You weren't even _looking_."

"An abandoned pick up truck?" Speed repeated.

"Man, _that's_ a little tacky," Bam whispered loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him. "I know _I_ would never take one of _my_ lays to a pick up truck…even if the damn truck was _mine_."

"Yeah, Sling, was he not up to your standards or something?" Speed asked.

"It was his fucking idea in the first place," Slingshot mumbled as he tugged his shoes on. "Can I go now? Spot wanted to talk to me before he left for school."

"Right, sure, go ahead," Bam granted, jumping down from the bed. "I never really wanted to be seen with someone who fucks people in pick-ups anyway; it's just trashy."

* * *

"Tch, I told you he shouldn't have been allowed to go off on his own," Hunter lectured Spot as he stood next to the boy's motorcycle. "He's completely irresponsible…not to mention shady. I seriously don't know why you put up with him. I can only hope there's not a deeper meaning in it."

"What? Like I won't kill him because he rescued me while I was drowning once or something as equally stupid?" Spot scoffed. "I have my own reasons for doing things. More importantly, I can never remember a time when I've needed _your_ permission."

"No, of course not," Hunter replied, trying to placate his boss, "It's just my little, harmless opinion is all."

"I don't ever remember asking for _that_ either," Spot answered, turning around when he felt someone else's presence.

Slingshot walked up to the two, looking as if he was still trying to put his shoes on. "Sorry about the delay, Boss-man; I've got some pretty nosy roommates that kept asking about last night. Anyway, Rambler's all set up. Here's his new cell phone number," he offered, handing over a piece of paper. "He apologizes for the fact that he never informed you he was switching phone numbers; apparently it was a fairly recent change. He said you can call him anytime and he'll be sure to pick up immediately."

"Of course," Spot retorted sarcastically before taking the paper and putting the number into his pocket. "I'll call you if he doesn't follow through with his promise," he informed Slingshot, sounding quite confident in the fact that Rambler wouldn't pick up for him.

"You better go," Hunter advised, checking the time on his wristwatch. "It looks like you're going to be late as it is."

"Are you trying to take on a role as my mother today?" Spot snapped. "And what the hell makes you think I'd really care if I was on time or not? Keep your fucking advice to yourself," he ordered before straddling his motorcycle and rocketing off.

"_Well_," Hunter replied in mock-offense as soon as he thought that Spot wouldn't be able to hear him, "_Someone_ sure has their cranky pants on today."

Slingshot rolled his eyes but grinned, "Not that you're making it any better, edging him on like that. He seems to be more stressed than normal; maybe you should cut it out for awhile."

"Stressed over what?" Hunter asked. "He not getting laid enough or something?"

"Just tone it down," Slingshot warned, "…Before he decides he's had enough of you and shoots you or something, alright? You're pretty annoying most of the time, but I don't think I want you dead."

"Thanks; you're a great friend," Hunter replied with sarcasm dripping out of his every pore.

Slingshot shrugged with indifference, "I signed on to take care of Spot, not you."

* * *

"What ever happened to the rule that we wouldn't let anyone take him for two days in a row? And why the hell did _I_ have to put up with him for two consecutive days?" Bumlets ranted as soon as he met his three friends along their smoking wall.

"Sorry, I could have taken him," Dutchy admitted, not seeming as if he really cared all that much, "But I was so busy and I never stopped by at your house so I didn't ever really even think about it."

"Well someone better take him tonight because if he stays at my house again I can't guarantee that he'll wake up alright in the morning," Bumlets warned, taking out one of his cigarettes. "He's been getting on my nerves even more than usual."

"The ever-patient Bumlets can't handle a few days with Jack," Itey announced. "Wow, that's gotta mean something bad, huh? If Bumlets can't stand him for only a few days what hope is there for the rest of us?"

"Don't make a big deal of it," Bumlets replied, "Jack's just one of those people that pisses me off more than an entire group of feminists could. You know what I'm talking about?"

"Ouch," Jack responded, clutching his chest before grinning. "I never knew you guys hated me so much," he confessed, walking over to them.

"That's just Bumlets," Dutchy answered, "To the rest of us you're more like a gnat or something. You're annoying, sure, but you're so cute we can't bare to smash you between our fingers."

"Ooh, that one was nice," Itey congratulated, "Excellent work, Dutch; you've finally insulted someone without being lame and making us all cringe."

"What are you even doing here, Jack?" Skittery asked. "Don't you think being seen with the druggies will ruin your reputation a bit? Don't you think you should go and leave us the fuck alone?"

"I was looking for Swifty," Jack explained, not at all offended by their insults, "Believe me; the last thing I want to do his hang out with you guys more than I already have to."

"Great," Skittery grumbled, "Now we're being associated with _Swifty_. Fuck, isn't there some form we have to fill out to let people know it's okay to do that? This whole 'new friends' thing is completely disgusting."

Itey solemnly nodded his head in agreement. "And here I thought we took special precautions to insure that this type of thing never happened. It seems as if all of our well placed plans have been trampled upon."

"Swifty's not here," Skittery told Jack, "And if we had our way he wouldn't _ever_ be, but, alas, the universe seems to hate us."

"…A lot," Dutchy continued.

"…Quite a bit of a lot," Bumlets agreed.

"But (and here's the really cool thing) _you_ can make it immensely better by just getting the hell away from us and taking your little annoying friend with you," Itey advised.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine, I get it; he's not here. You could have just said that in the first place. And, for the record, Swifty _does_ like you guys, regardless of what you all think. It wouldn't kill you to be at least a little less asshole-ish to the guy, right? He's going through a lot of crap right now."

"Oh no," Skittery mocked, "It looks like we got him _all_ wrong! Oh my, and how terrible we all feel about it. Tell you what, _you_ tell him how sorry we all are and then we can all give each other a big _hug_."

"Look," Jack snapped, "Don't think I don't know why the fuck you're so mean to everyone you meet. When everyone split up, you were the guys left in the dust. The guys no one else wanted to hang out with, so you decided to be real clever and just hang out with each other. Now when anyone even remotely tries to talk to you, you shoot him down before _they_ can reject _you_. It's not all that complicated. Tell you what, you guys get your heads out of your asses and stop acting like dicks; maybe people might like you a little more."

"Golly gee, what a great analysis of our characters. Is it our turn to do you now?" Itey mocked.

"All you care about is sports," Dutchy broke in with the first thing that came to his mind.

"Swifty's your only real friend and you aren't even hanging out with him any more, thus proving that you care about your fake crowd of friends that don't give a shit about you instead of someone whom worries about you constantly," Skittery told Jack.

"You happily sleep at our houses without so much as a 'thank you' or apology," Bumlets said, "You haven't even thought about getting a real job in order to support yourself. What? Think you can just keep depending on us for the rest of your life?"

"You're so ashamed about everything you are you won't even tell anyone," Itey revealed. "You've made no mention about your parents or your housing situation to _anyone_ besides us and that was only because you needed us to make sure you didn't die out on the street in the middle of the night."

"'Jack Kelly' isn't even your real name," Dutchy pointed out. "What the hell kind of a kid _does_ that? You're real name isn't even all that bad; you just changed it because then people couldn't trace you to your parents as easily."

"When is dear old dad getting out of jail?" Skittery asked.

"Are you going to go visit dear old mom's grave site soon?" Itey questioned.

"Fine, fuck you guys," Jack replied, walking away angrily. "You don't want to help me? Fine. Fuck if I care. I just won't come by and bother you any more. Fuck, sorry if I ruined your lives with my stupid problems."

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence followed, no one really knowing how they should react.

"Wow," Itey finally said, "Is that all it took to get him to leave us alone? We should have done that sooner."

Bumletssmirked, pushing down his guilt. "Yeah, too bad we didn't think of that earlier, huh?"

"I wonder if that'll get anyone else to leave us alone," Skittery wondered.

* * *

Racetrack walked into his first period class and slipped into his seat not five seconds before the bell rang. He turned to yell at Sean for yesterday only to discover that he wasn't there.

He wondered if Sean would even be coming to school today for about twenty seconds before the object of his thoughts waltzed in looking smug.

"Where were you?" Racetrack asked as soon as Spot had somehow slipped by the teacher and took his place in his seat.

"Arranging some things," Spot smirked, "I told you you were a lot of work."

"Yeah, Sean, about that... Rehab? What the hell were you thinking?" Racetrack asked in annoyance. "What the hell made you think that'd I'd be okay with going to some fucking rehabilitation clinic?"

"Relax," Spot demanded. "I thought you'd do anything in order to be able to talk to your friends again. Rehab's something you're going to have to do. Am I handling this or not? Because it's more than easy to just ignore the whole idiotic mess you've managed to get yourself into."

Racetrack rolled his eyes, knowing that he didn't have a plan and, more importantly, knowing that _Spot_ knew that he didn't have a plan. "It's all you, just make sure I don't want to kill you by the end of this," he replied.

"Sure you should be threatening someone like me? You're out of your league with that little warning; you can't touch me," Spot pointed out with a smirk.

"You know, people might like you more if you weren't such a complete asshole all the time," Racetrack advised. "That's a little fun fact I learned when I was about two years old."

"Clever," Spot replied, not really looking all that amused. "You know, people might not be such complete assholes to you if you didn't look like you were asking for it all the time. That's another little fun fact."

"Can you come over Saturday?" Racetrack asked, changing the subject as soon as he remembered that his mom agreed to have Sean over. "If we're lucky I can get out of the house and then I can go hang out with Mush and Blink."

"I never remember that being part of the deal," Spot answered, "I've got better things to do than pretend to be the best of friends with you."

"I'll give you fifty bucks," Racetrack promised. "And all you have to do is try to convince my mom to let us go out. Once that happens you can go off and do whatever it is you usually do on Saturdays."

"Give me the money up front and you've got yourself a deal," Spot bargained nonchalantly. "You can think of it as me doing you yet another favor."

Racetrack sighed in exasperation, knowing that even though Spot was doing him all these 'favors' he would eventually have to repay him. "Fine," he agreed, "I'll give you the money by the end of the school day. Come to my house around noon, okay?"

Spot smirked, "We can talk once I see the money."

Racetrack rolled his eyes, not really all that surprised by his reply at this point and wondering where he could get his hands on fifty bucks by the end of eighth period.

* * *

Second period found Racetrack in his new seat across the room from Mush and Blink, hunched over his desk, and scribbling something out on a piece of paper. Within a moment he straightened up and read through it. Looking satisfied with his work he crumbled it up and threw it. Immediately he took out some homework from his last class and tried to look busy.

"You think they'll actually want to come?" Blink asked Mush, looking doubtful. "Skittery and Itey don't seem like the type of people who would like the ballet. I don't have a problem with them coming, but I don't really want to get made fun of throughout the entire thing either."

"We'll never know until we try," Mush pointed out. "Plus, they're our friends; we should try and include them even if they might not like what we're doing. And I'm sure if we ask them to not make fun of us for going to the Nutcracker they won't."

"Yeah, alright, I guess we can give it a chance," Blink relented, not really caring too much if Skittery found another thing to make fun of him for (he just didn't want him interrupting the Nutcracker to do it). "We'll ask them after-" Blink started a bit as something lightly hit him in the head.

Mush picked up the crumbled piece of paper curiously before looking around the classroom in confusion and seeing no one who was looking in their direction. "Who do you think threw this?"

Blink shrugged. "I don't know. Is it just a blank paper or is it a note? Open it up."

"It says 'Meet me by the water fountain'," Mush read before looking over at Racetrack's new desk and discovering him missing. "You think it was Race? Should we go now?"

"Yeah," Blink decided. "It'll be pretty important if he's risking more punishment from his mom to talk to us."

"You think he found a way to hang out with us again?" Mush asked excitedly as he got up from his seat and started walking towards the door.

"Maybe," Blink answered as he followed beside Mush. "If he hasn't we should try asking Skittery and Itey for advice when we talk to them today. If anything they could relay messages from us to Race and vice versa…if they'll agree to it anyway."

"I knew we'd be able to work something out," Mush replied excitedly as they approached the water fountain nearest their second period room.

Blink looked around, "Where is he? Do you think he meant another water fountain? Maybe it wasn't even Race who sent the note."

"Well, someone sent the note," Mush pointed out, "So someone should be here even if it wasn't for us."

"Think we should try the restroom?" Blink asked, nodding his head to the men's room located not even ten feet from the water fountain. "Maybe he decided that it'd be best if we met out of sight."

Mush smiled, already heading into the bathroom, "It's worth a try."

"Hey guys," Racetrack greeted as soon as his two friends came into view, "Sorry about all the cryptic stuff; I guess I'm a little paranoid about my mom. Anyway, I'm glad you guys found me."

"So what's up?" Mush asked eagerly, "Did you find a way to go around your mom so you can hang out with us again?"

"Kind of," Racetrack answered, "But it's still in the planning stages…I guess. Look, uh…I know this may sound kind of weird but…do you guys have any extra money with you that I can borrow? I swear I'll pay you back."

"Sure," Mush replied without any hesitation, "How much do you need?"

"Uh…like…forty I think," Racetrack answered, knowing that he already had ten dollars in his locker.

Blink fished around in his pocket for a while before bringing out a twenty-dollar bill and handing it over to Racetrack. "I've got twenty. I can check my locker, but I don't think I have anymore."

"I have…fifteen," Mush announced after counting all the one-dollar bills that he had dug out from his pocket. "We could check my car; I might have enough change in there to come to five dollars."

"Thanks guys," Racetrack replied with a relieved smile. "I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I possibly can."

"Don't worry about it," Blink answered for both him and Mush, "Keep it for the next time you can sneak off to go to the racetrack. Think of it as our 'fuck you' gift to your mom."

Mush smiled when Racetrack looked at him questioningly. "We're friends; you don't have to worry about a few bucks," he backed up, "Plus, I'm sure you've spent more than that on us for gas money and food."

Racetrack beamed, "You guys are the best. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Mush beamed right back, "It's what friends do. When do you need the money? We can look in my car during lunch if you want to. Or right now? I don't really know how you want to go about this…with your mom and all."

Blink laughed, "You know Mush loves you when he volunteers to sneak out of school in the middle of the day for you."

"I don't want Racetrack to get into even more trouble for hanging out with us," Mush explained. "If I go to my car now you two can just wait in the bathroom and that way we won't have to worry about trying to meet up again."

"I don't want to get you into any trouble though," Racetrack confessed. "I feel bad enough making you both sneak out of class to meet me. You've already gave me enough money anyway; I'm sure I can scrape together another five bucks."

"It's just straight here and back," Mush insisted, "And then you can be sure you have enough money for…for…whatever it is that you need it for."

"While we're on the subject…what do you need it for?" Blink asked with curiosity.

"It doesn't matter," Mush answered. "I'll go out to my car and get that money," he promised before getting ready to leave the bathroom.

Racetrack seized his arm quickly and dragged him back a few paces. "Mush? What's with you? I appreciate the money and everything but the rest I need isn't _that_ big of a deal. I'm sure if I looked around on the cafeteria floor during lunch I would find at _least_ five dollars in quarters."

"But it's no big deal for me to run out into my car and get it," Mush answered before pulling out of Racetrack's light grip and scurrying off. "Just stay here; I'll be right back."

Racetrack turned to Blink, "That _was_ weird, right? I mean, it can't just be me, right?"

Blink shrugged while his face held distinct confusion. "He was fine this morning. Maybe it's nothing; maybe he's just eager to help because he wants us all to hang out again."

"Yeah, maybe," Racetrack replied, sounding as if he didn't believe that excuse for even a tenth of a second.

* * *

"So?" Skittery asked as soon as he saw Itey in his Algebra class. "How am I doing so far? Is it just me, or am I doing a fucking fantastically good job? I mean, just look at how normal I've been acting."

Itey grinned happily. "Yeah, you're acting super normal, which is such a big surprise considering how crazy you usually are. Now no one will suspect you," he replied sarcastically before sitting down beside his friend.

"Wow, Itey, that one really tore the pants right off of me (and I know that's what you really wanted)," Skittery mock-congratulated, showing off a smile that clearly stated he wasn't amused. "Whatever happened to the promise that we wouldn't make fun of each other, and we'd save all our insulting comments and snide remarks for _other_ people, you bastard?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry," Itey apologized right away, "I just couldn't resist. Plus, I had no idea what you were talking about so I decided to cover it up by making fun of you."

"Ah, what our insecurities make us do. Still, it's no excuse to go insulting and hurting other people's feelings. There's a right time and a wrong time to do that sort of thing; the right time being whenever we're with anyone else and the wrong time being whenever we're talking just to each other," Skittery sarcastically lectured. "Anyway, I was talking about the whole…_mmm_…situation," Skittery tried to explain.

"Oh, that whole thing," Itey laughed, "It's not _that_ big of a deal. I mean, you can say his name. I'm _almost _positive he won't jump out of the woodwork and try to kill us or anything like that."

"Yeah, but what about the people who are listening?" Skittery asked in a purposely loud whisper, "We don't want anyone else to find out about this; it could end badly if it starts to spread around."

"No one would believe it anyway," Itey replied, copying the loud whisper Skittery used as they attracted more and more attention (loud whispers always seemed to attract people's attention like flies to a piece of shit; it was pretty fucking annoying, but kind of fun at times as well).

"I know, that's true, but still," Skittery stage-whispered back, "I don't want anyone thinking anything about us. As if there won't be enough rumors going on _already_ later on. And…and I'm just so…so _worried_ about all of this."

"Don't worry, Skitts," Itey replied somberly, not really knowing what Skittery had planned but more than willing to play along (the trick was being as vague as possible). "We can get through all of this together, I promise. I know I'll do anything in my power to get us through this."

"I know you will, but…but what if that's not enough?" Skittery answered in mock-quietness, looking quite anxious, "This has never happened to any guy ever before. What if I die? Or it doesn't turn out right? And I'll probably be in all the tabloids...oh god. I don't want to be known as the guy who got pregnant for the rest of my life."

Itey chuckled silently to himself as the entire class did a collective eye roll and turned back around in their seats. "You'd think eventually they'd just stop listening to us all together."

"I know, but stupid people never learn," Skittery responded loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "In all honesty it's pretty pathetic, but what are you going to do?"

Itey stopped laughing but held on to his smirk. "You know," he told Skittery conspiratorially, "If we keep this up I think they're eventually going to form an angry mob and come to both our houses wielding pitchforks and torches."

"Nah," Skittery brushed off almost immediately, "Do cows ever form angry, blood-thirsty mobs? You have to have at least one person with at least a _minor_ hint of intelligence in order to make that type of thing happen. I think we're safe."

"We got really off-topic," Itey pointed out. "What about the whole…how did you say it? …The whole…'_mmm_…situation', I believe it was. So? What about it? I completely missed anything you were trying to secretly explain while you got pregnant."

"I was just asking if I was convincing enough. You know, if I was acting normal or not," Skittery explained, talking normally and thus not attracting anyone else's attention but Itey's. "I've never actually kept a secret before."

"Don't tell me things like that," Itey demanded, his worry about other people finding out about everything and Sean killing them because of it increasing by at least six hundred percent. "I'm already worrying way more than I should be."

"Just relax," Skittery advised, "Try not to think about it too much. Just imagine you're in one of those gay situations playing one of those retarded interactive games."

"This is hardly a 'gay situation'. Now, you, on your knees, in front of me? That's a gay situation, and one I'd very much enjoy being apart of," Itey replied jokingly, mainly attempting to get their conversation off of Sean.

"Anytime, babe, all you have to do is name the time and place," Skittery promised. "However, that was not the type of 'gay' I was trying to convey. I was thinking more along the lines of the slang word 'gay', meaning lame and stupid."

Itey laughed, "Do you even realize how offensive you are? And even to yourself, too. Though, I guess I shouldn't really be saying anything because I do it too, but still…doesn't it seem at least a little bit like self-hate."

"It might _seem_ like it, but I can assure you I love myself way too much to hate myself," Skittery replied. "And before you even ask, no, I do not have any sort of love-hate relationship with myself."

"Ah well, as long as you're sure," Itey told him.

"So? Do you think I'm acting enough like myself? I mean, if you didn't know about Sean and I did, would you be suspicious that I knew something you didn't? Or could you not tell?" Skittery asked, jumping right back into the original topic.

"I think it's pretty convincing," Itey assured without much thought put into it, "And I'd like to think I know you pretty damn well; if I can't tell there's no way Sean's going to be able to realize something's going on."

* * *

Something was definitely going on; Spot could tell.

A lot of the time he could tell something was wrong or someone was plotting just on instincts alone, but this time there was so much more evidence than just that.

He saw Obnoxious Fag One and Obnoxious Fag Two hanging out with Annoying Art Fag and Naive Fool 1, which was something that he had never witnessed happening before.

He saw Naïve Fool going out to the parking lot during second period (which made it the second time it happened within a couple of days) even though his sources claimed that What's-His-Name didn't do that sort of thing.

The Obnoxious Fags had kept giving him strange looks when they were sure no one else was looking.

All of this added up to the fact that Spot was probably going to have to bribe people, threaten people, and/or kill people. And, of course, everything had to become so much more of a pain in the ass because he didn't have all the facts.

…Actually, he didn't have any facts at all, just instincts and assumptions. Admittedly, he had acted on worse things, but he knew that it'd probably be a bad idea to do something drastic when he wasn't really all that sure.

Of course, he had arrived to all these conclusions during the very beginnings of third period, which at least slightly explained why he was here instead of his actual fourth period class.

He wasn't in his regular Calculus class today (well, why the hell would he be when he was in risk of being found out?). Instead, he was in some stupid ass physics class, doing a very good job of blending in and pretending he belonged there.

Spot smirked slightly as soon as two of the three Musketeers sat in front of him without even noticing his presence just as he had expected them to.

"Who the hell did you tell?" Spot asked them in a neutral voice. "I feel it my obligation to tell you that your life depends on your honest answer."

"We didn't tell anyone about anything." Blink snapped without an ounce of fear in his voice before turning around in his seat to face Spot. "And there's no way you're going to kill us; you kill one of us and the other two will tell."

"Because I'm sure it's going to be so difficult to kill _three_ high school juniors," Spot replied sarcastically.

"But apparently we told someone, so that person's going to tell, too; good luck finding out who they are," Blink answered with slight sarcasm and triple the annoyance. "We didn't do anything; just leave us alone."

"No, someone told someone and that someone told another someone," Spot narrated. "And who the hell knows how many people those two are going to tell. Do you not realize you both are liabilities? Even if you had cooperated it would've been a better idea to kill you, but now you won't even follow the rules."

"I told Itey," Mush answered with some shame.

"You what?" Blink asked right away. "Why? And why the hell didn't you tell me you told him? And…and why? We promised each other we wouldn't tell anyone else. What was going through your head?"

"I was feeling so overwhelmed…with Racetrack and Sean and everything," Mush tried to explain, "I just…I just thought that it'd be nice to have someone to talk to about it."

"And it never occurred to you that _we_ could talk about it?" Blink asked angrily, "What made you think you and I couldn't talk about it together? Wouldn't that have been so much easier? And now…now who knows what the hell's going to happen to us."

"I'm sorry," Mush apologized to Blink before turning to Sean and begging forgiveness. "Where did Sean go?" he asked when he discovered someone else was sitting in the seat Sean had previously occupied.

"Probably off to think about what the best way to kill us is," Blink answered, "This is so, so, _so_ bad. We have to think of some way to tell Racetrack."

* * *

"Are you sure it's okay to sit with you again?" David asked even as he went to sit down next to Bumlets. "I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable or anything like that."

"It's fine Davey," Bumlets assured him, "Skittery decided that he likes you again, therefore Itey likes you again too; if anyone's going to get chased off it's going to be Specs."

"But I don't want that either," David claimed. "I feel bad. Specs and I were pretty much the only friend either of us had. Now that we had a fight I don't want to chase him away from a potential friend."

"It's not you chasing him off, David, that's Skittery's and Itey's job," Bumlets told him, "And they would do it whether you were sitting with us or not, that's just how they are."

"Are you sure?" David asked even though it looked as though he had made up his mind to sit with the druggies again today.

"You need to stop worrying about other people so much; Specs can take care of himself," Bumlets replied, "And all your worrying is going to give you an ulcer or something pretty soon."

"David's getting an ulcer?" Skittery asked as soon as he sat down with Itey following suit right beside him. "I totally knew it; that's what you get for being all nice and worrying about people."

"Oh, yes," Itey agreed sarcastically, "Surely being a complete jackass is a lot healthier for someone's blood pressure."

"Hey guys," Dutchy greeted happily, "Where's Sean?"

"Still not over your crush?" Skittery asked right away, "He doesn't like you Dutch…I'm sorry, but that's the truth. In fact, yesterday I even saw him fucking Bumlets in the janitor's closest."

Dutchy immediately looked towards Bumlets with betrayal in his eyes.

"I can't believe you still believe his bullshit," Bumlets responded, rolling his eyes. "So are we going to have to put up with Specs today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know," Dutchy replied, sitting down at their table. "We were hanging out yesterday and kind of got into it. I mean, it wasn't really a fight-fight, but…it wasn't exactly…uh…a…um…nice conversation."

"You didn't tell him that you liked him, did you? Because I think Davey over here could tell you what a bad idea that is. Am I right, Davey?" Skittery asked, looking over at David with a grin on his face.

David smiled back, albeit a little hesitantly (wondering if there was an insult coming his way anytime soon). "Well…it definitely isn't something I would advise people to do."

"But it worked out all well and good, right? I mean, you've got Bumlets for a gay fuck-buddy now, right? Things couldn't have turned out too bad for you," Itey said. "Of course, I guess that kind of depends on how many times Sean actually _has_ fucked Bumlets senseless in the janitor's closest, huh?"

"Why would I be fucking Bumlets senseless in the janitor's closest?" Spot asked before casting a glance over to Itey and Skittery and sitting down.

"Oh…" Itey stumbled, clearly having his composure stolen away from him for what could have been the first time in his life. "Well…you know…we were just…uh…"

"He's just so pretty, isn't he?" Skittery spoke up, trying to cover up the fact that Itey didn't seem to be able to talk correctly. "I mean, who wouldn't want to be fucking Bumlets senseless in the janitor's closet, right? I know I would."

"Excuse me!" Itey exclaimed, now having more of a grip on the conversation. "What about me?"

"You can fuck him senseless after I'm done," Skittery offered, "I refuse to take sloppy seconds."

"You jerk, I thought we said we wouldn't insult each other," Itey replied with mock-hurt. "And now you're telling everyone you'd leave me for Bumlets if given the chance."

"Oh, honey, _no_," Skittery cooed as he hugged Itey's head to his chest, "It was just a joke…a stupid, idiotic joke that wasn't even very funny. I promise I'd never leave you for Bumlets. Believe me, if there was a janitor's closet with Bumlets waiting for me to fuck him senseless and janitor's closest with you waiting for to fuck you senseless…baby, I would choose you every time."

"Really?" Itey asked, giving a fake sniffle.

"Absolutely," Skittery answered with conviction, "No matter what."

"Can we get off the topic of someone fucking me senseless?" Bumlets asked as he rolled his eyes.

"God, David, you really _are_ going out with Bumlets, aren't you?" Specs asked as he came up to the table with his lunch tray just in time to hear Bumlets' last uttered sentence. "Didn't you have a crush on me…like…yesterday? You gays sure are flaky."

"Go to hell, Specs," David answered immediately, "I never had a god damned crush on you; get over yourself."

Bumlets smirked at David's progress.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Skittery asked. "Didn't we scare you off yesterday?"

"Were our insults not enough of a hint that we don't like you?" Itey backed, "Because, seriously, we don't like you."

"Last time I checked I could sit wherever I damned well pleased," Specs retorted. "Plus, I'm here at Dutchy's invitation, right Dutch?"

"You know, I don't really remember that," Dutchy answered, "But then again I can be such a flake on account of how tremendously gay I am."

"Oh come on, I didn't mean _you_," Specs replied, "Lighten up."

"Then whom were you talking about?" Skittery jumped right in. "Were you talking about Sean?" he asked, hoping just a little bit to get Sean angry at Specs (maybe then the fucker would finally leave them alone).

"Sean's not gay," Specs answered without even thinking about it, "You're full of shit as always."

"I used to be," Sean spoke up sarcastically, not really liking Specs any more than Skittery or Itey, "But then I heard that all gays were flakes, and since I don't think I'm a flake…well…now I'm just confused."

David and Specs' eyes widened a fraction, "Seriously?"

"It's in stereo," Skittery interrupted, "Sweet."

"Well I'd have to be to be fucking Bumlets in the janitor's closet," Sean replied in slight impatience.

"What? When the fuck did that happen?" Specs asked, turning to David. "Jesus, not only are you gays flakes; you're whores, too."

"Uh…what?" Dutchy asked right away, standing up. "You better take that back before you get the shit kicked out of you."

"Relax, Dutchy, I'll be fine," Specs brushed off, "I know you're all concerned about some gay getting pissed off enough to come after me, but you really have nothing to worry about; gays can't fight for shit."

Dutchy was about ready to punch him, but to everyone's surprise David beat him to it.

"David!" a shocked teacher who was patrolling shouted out as soon as it happened. "Get yourself to the principal's office…NOW," she called out before steering Specs towards the nurse's office.

"Woo-hoo! Way to go David!" Skittery stood up and exclaimed loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear. "We should totally hang out today after school; you can show Itey and me some of your fighting moves, man."

Itey rose from his seat as well, "Yeah! And afterwards, if you want, we're open to a threesome. I mean, if you're into that sort of thing. Hey, Bumlets can come along too; we don't mind foursomes at all."

"Hell," Skittery continued, "Bring your sister; we can make it into a full-blown orgy."

"Perverts!" Sarah yelled from across the cafeteria in response to Skittery and Itey's shouts.

* * *

"I thought you cancelled," Swifty said sulkily from his seat in the very empty library.

"Yeah, well, I had a feeling you'd be here anyway and decided to try and drop in on you," Jack replied before sitting down beside his friend. "And it's not like I cancelled because I hate you or anything. I just didn't think I could come because I had to make up a test."

Swifty sighed, not believing him for even a second, "What test, Jack? Because you haven't stayed home sick for years and teachers never give C-average students a chance to make up a test they failed."

Jack grinned with a little hesitation, "Alright, so that was kind of a bad lie; I admit it. Really it was just lack of imagination on my part. Well, that and the fact that I was rushed for time since I thought the next time I'd see you would be tomorrow at the very earliest. I couldn't think of any other excuse."

"Is the real reason something that I can't handle then?" Swifty asked sarcastically. "It's not as if I didn't already notice that something was off. So what's up? Masson doesn't want you associating with me, right? You could have just told me that when I asked you if I had been blacklisted. Honestly, I don't care about those guys anymore. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings or anything, okay?"

"Like I've ever worried about hurting your feelings," Jack laughed. "It wasn't like that…not really. Look, when you asked I didn't know so I thought it was ridiculous. Then I was talking to Masson today and he was complaining about you and I thought it'd be best to not disagree with him. Then right after that he asked to play some basketball during lunch and I didn't know what to say so I just agreed. When it turned out he had some other stuff to do I decided to try looking for you."

"Uh…right…so I'm not _really_ blacklisted, but I might as well be, does that sound about right?" Swifty responded harshly before taking a bit of his sandwich.

"Well…yeah, I guess. But, if it helps anything, it has less to do with the fact that you picture Masson naked and more to do with the fact that you were hanging out with the druggies yesterday…as much sense as that makes," Jack answered.

"I do not picture him naked," Swifty snapped, not really all that mad.

Jack smirked, "You can be honest with me, okay? If you're a fag I can learn to accept that."

"Ha ha ha. Shut the fuck up, Jack," Swifty retorted, keeping up his fake-anger.

Jack stole Swifty's bag of chips and tore them open, trying to ignore the awkwardness the silence forced in.

"Sooo…we're pretty much just not going to be friends anymore, huh?" Swifty asked, ignoring the fact that he no longer had his chips (he didn't really like that kind anyway).

"'Course we will, man," Jack replied evenly and without hesitation, "'Friends forever' and all that shit, remember? Just because we were like, _twelve_ when we promised each other that doesn't make it any less true."

"Yeah, tell that to all of our other friends we had at twelve that we never talk to anymore," Swifty scoffed. "I don't have a problem with the truth, Jack. And I know that never hanging out at school will quickly become never hanging out _after_ school, which will quickly turn into us never talking to each other again."

"Oh, it will not," Jack replied while still munching on the chips. "I promise I will be available to hang out with you whenever, okay? We'll just make the extra effort not to lose touch."

Swifty rolled his eyes, "You're delusional, Jack; things don't work like that."

"What do you want me to do, huh?" Jack finally snapped, "Stop acting all pathetic and pitiful and help me think of a plan so we can still hang out. Pessimism isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Neither is a plan," Swifty answered. "Look, Jack, I made my decision and I know it's unfair to make you pick between me and everyone else, okay? I never planned on doing that and I promise I won't. But at the same time I'm not going to fill you with false reassurances. We can hang out whenever you want, I swear, but you have to realize that whether you like it or not the fact that we aren't going to hang out at school anymore is the beginning of the end."

"So what are you saying? 'Might as well not even try and cut our ties now'? I mean, Jesus man, this was your choice (and a stupid choice, let me tell you) so why the hell do I have to suffer for it?" Jack asked.

"Fuck you," Swifty replied. "Don't tell me my decisions are shit. I explained everything to you the best I could, I tried to work through it, but I just can't. The entire fakeness of everyone, the fact that I feel like I always have to watch my back, watch what I say so the wrong people don't get angry, don't talk to certain people so my so-called friends won't look at me funny…it's all too fucking much. You know I've never liked that sort of thing. God, I don't know why you _do_. We have other choices, you know?"

"Yeah, sorry," Jack answered, looking slightly defeated. "Today's just been a shitty day. I guess I took it out on you and shit."

"S'fine," Swifty shrugged, "Just stop acting like a girl and I'll forgive you."

"I'm not, mother-fucker," Jack replied in pseudo-anger.

"Look," Swifty said just has the bell rang the end of lunch, "Why don't you come over to my place tonight? My parents aren't home and we can hang out without any threat of your friends finding out about it."

"Sure," Jack agreed, already starting to walk out, "I'll be there around five, alright? And I expect you to feed me."

"Can do," Swifty answered as he gathered up his stuff, waiting about ten seconds after Jack walked out to follow him.

* * *

"Yo," Skittery greeted before sitting down next to Blink in his American Studies class, "What's up, Little Dude?"

Blink practically killed him with his glare, "Do you know about Sean?"

"That depends," Skittery responded with hesitation, "What about Sean?"

"If you know what I'm talking about you then wouldn't have had to ask that question," Blink replied vaguely.

"Way to be creepy," Skittery congratulated, trying to lighten the mood.

"Did Itey tell you?" Blink asked, refusing to let it pass.

"Itey tells me a lot of things; to which thing are you referring?" Skittery replied.

"Stop dodging the question. Did Itey tell you about Sean or not? This is important," Blink said.

"Yeah, he told me," Skittery admitted, "But…uh…(let's see if I got this right because I've never been very good at keeping track of secrets)…you weren't supposed to know that he knew and Mush isn't supposed to know that I know…I think…right?"

"Probably," Blink replied with an edge to his voice. "God, I can't believe Mush told someone when he promised not to. Have you told anyone else?"

"Nope, my lips have been shut tight since receiving the information," Skittery answered, "And Itey assured me I haven't given anything away."

"Yeah, well, you two must have done something because Sean knows," Blink replied, "He came into Mush's and my Physics class and threatened us today (that's when I found out that Itey knew and apparently he had told someone else; I assumed that someone else was you)-"

"Naturally," Skittery interrupted.

"…Now, the only people who know about this is Mush, Itey, you, me, and Racetrack, except Racetrack doesn't know that you and Itey know or that Sean knows that you and Itey know. Unfortunately Mush and I can't talk to him because of this stupid thing with his mom so we can't warn him to keep his guard up around Sean so you and Itey are the ones that are going to have to tell him," Blink explained.

"What? No way," Skittery responded immediately, "I don't even know what the fuck you just told me. Not to mention I haven't talked to Racetrack in years and I'm pretty sure he'll be angry enough to kill me if he finds out I know whatever the fuck it is I'm supposed to know."

"He has to know," Blink insisted. "Do you know what's at stake here? Sean could kill him. I mean, Sean could _actually_ **really** kill him."

"Hey, I didn't ask to be a part of this," Skittery argued, "I didn't decide that I had to know. I didn't sneak around until I knew what was going on. I was having a wonderful time just making fun of people when it just jumped on my back and started attacking. I don't want anything to do with this."

"We're in way over our heads," Blink pointed out. "We need help. Like, we need someone who knows what they're doing. We…we need to tell the police…or our parents…or…"

"Hell no," Skittery answered immediately. "Are you serious with this? If we go to the police then he really will kill us. And what the hell could the police do anyway? They'll probably just assume we're playing a joke. And even if they do believe us they'll need to get proof before they can do anything."

"Maybe if we just talk to Sean…tell him we won't tell anyone else," Blink rattled on.

"Yeah, because he'll believe you _again_," Skittery answered. "What do you think he's going to do? Promise not to kill us if we tell him it's just some kind of misunderstanding? And even is he does promise do you think you'll actually believe him? Didn't you have ample time to get used to this? Why are you freaking out _now_?"

"Because…I don't know…it just didn't feel real before, I guess," Blink replied. "I mean, I guess I just thought that…he didn't mean it or…something. But then, I mean, how long have you known? A day? How the hell could he have figured it out that fast? Is he really paying that close of attention to us? I mean…it's scary."

"…And slightly stalker-ish," Skittery mused.

"Do you really think he'll kill us?"

"I hope not."

"Will you tell Racetrack? I'll let you slip in an eye patch joke."

"Yeah…I'll tell him," Skittery grumbled. "And I'm saving that one-eye joke for when we're in a room with a lot of people, so as to get ample embarrassment. I think I deserve it."

* * *

"Hey," Itey greeted with some hesitation. "Skittery told me that Sean knows about you and us. Apparently Blink confronted him last class; he told me during the period break."

"Yeah," Mush answered. "I shouldn't have told you. Now Blink's mad at me and I put us all in _more_ danger; it was stupid. I guess I just needed someone to talk to, you know? And I didn't think that Sean would ever find out."

"I'm sorry I told Skittery," Itey replied.

"I can't really be the one to complain about telling people things you shouldn't," Mush said. "It's fine; I understand why you wanted to."

"It'll be fine," Itey assured him. "You wouldn't believe the shit that Skittery gets out of on a regular basis. I don't know how he does it, but people just let him off the hook all the time. (I guess he has one of those faces you just can't crush or something.) Anyway, I'm sure Sean will feel the same way."

"Things have just been so messed up," Mush complained, "I can't talk to Racetrack, Blink's mad at me, Sean's…I don't even want to know what Sean's planning on doing to me."

"Well, there's no use worrying about it, right?" Itey replied. "God," he muttered mainly to himself, "I really suck at trying to make people feel better. '…No use worrying about it'? I mean, seriously, what the hell?"

"Do you and Skittery want to go see the Nutcracker on Saturday with me and Blink? Assuming that Blink still wants to go and everyone's still alive?" Mush asked, consciously changing the subject.

"Uh…sure…yeah…I mean…I'll have to ask Skittery first, but…I guess…we don't have anything else better to do," Itey answered, a little caught off-guard by the dramatic change in conversation.

"Yeah, I have to ask Blink if he even still wants to come," Mush replied, "I guess I couldn't really blame him if he decided that never talking to me again was the best idea he ever had."

"Yeah, well…I couldn't…definitely not," Itey assured him. "Skittery and I'll be there, alright? And if I know Skittery he'll bring Blink along with ease if I tell him to. He has a way of convincing people of doing what he wants, you know? Well, actually, that's a lie. It's more like he bothers you so much you'll do whatever he wants just to shut him up, but it's approximately the same thing, right?"

"Right," Mush laughed before continuing on more somberly, "You don't have to go through all that trouble. I don't want to force Blink to come if he doesn't want to. I'll ask and if he says 'no' I'll just have to deal with it.

* * *

Spot walked into his gym class less than enthused to be there. Unfortunately he couldn't skip out early because he was waiting for Racetrack's money and he couldn't go outside and smoke because he had run out of cigarettes (and what a hell of a time it was for _that_ to happen). The library was being watched over by the librarian who had required a note from his teacher of the period in order for him to be in there (he had already tried and failed to talk her out of the note). He really had nothing better to do for forty-five minutes than go to class.

"Came back, huh? …Really not a good idea. Masson's been irritated all day today and chances are he's going to take it out on you," some dweeby kid advised as soon as Spot had walked into the gym. "I mean, last time you fought…that was pretty good on your part…I mean, you should be proud and stuff…but Masson was _hardly_ giving it his all. In other words, I would skip if I were you."

Spot rolled his eyes before smirking. "I think I can handle myself."

"Fine with me, man," the kid answered back right away, " 'S your funeral at any rate. Do me a favor and make it mildly entertaining though, alright?"

"Hey, if it's not the kid who wouldn't wrestle," Masson announced right on cue as three guys came into position behind him. "I'm surprised to see you back here; didn't picture you as a stupid kid."

"Same to you," Spot answered, "Well, I did picture you as a stupid kid, I just didn't picture you being _this_ stupid. You need to watch who you picks fights with before it gets you killed."

"Oh? Big words coming from such a little guy," one of Masson's cronies replied.

"Want us to pound him into the ground? Because I promise that it'll be our pleasure to do so," another crony backed up.

Spot rolled his eyes again. "You really don't know what you're getting into and I've had a really crappy couple of days," he said before beginning to walk away, yet again deciding that gym was worse than he remembered it.

"Ooh…looks like the little fag is running away, huh?" the boy on Masson's right jeered.

"Well we wouldn't want the big kids to beat him up, would we?" the boy next to him answered with sarcasm.

Spot gave a silent snort, not even turning around. "Picking a fight with you is like picking a fight with a two year old girl. I'll do a lot of things, but I just can't allow myself to engage in a fight with absolutely no challenge at all."

"Come on," Masson growled to his friends before starting to follow Sean out the gym door. "We're kicking this little fag's ass. He needs to learn who runs things around here."

Spot tried not to groan when he realized the complete morons from gym were following him. He really didn't feel like getting in a fight where he'd have to hold back but he couldn't afford to just let go and beat the shit out of all four of them.

"Hey," Masson called out before shoving Sean into some nearby lockers. "Do you not get that you're just some stupid little kid here? Seriously, man, I'd say you were the stupidest fuck I'd ever meant. Are you really trying to start shit with me just to back out at the last minute? I'd say that makes you a pussy, boy."

"Fuck it all," Spot grumbled to himself before punching Masson in the gut.

* * *

"So do you still want to go to the Nutcracker on Saturday?" Mush asked Blink timidly in the middle of their German class. "I understand if you don't, or if you don't want me to go (that's fine too), but I asked Itey and it seems as if he and Skittery are probably going to go so…"

"I know you didn't tell on purpose or anything," Blink said, "Well, I mean, obviously you knew what you were doing, but…look…uh…I'm still mad at you and everything and I still don't really understand why you did it when you could have just talked to me. I'm still angry at you for telling someone when you promised you wouldn't and I'm a little upset that you felt like you couldn't talk to me about whatever you were worrying about, but…I know you're a good friend and that you had the best of intentions and all of that. I just…give me some time, all right?"

"Yeah," Mush replied sadly, "Whatever you need."

"Look," Blink added as soon as Mush's guilt-ridden face made him feel guilty as well, "Why don't you save me a seat there? I don't…I'm not promising to come or anything, but let's just keep the option open, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Mush answered, looking only slightly better. "I know it was all my fault and I…I'm so sorry."

"Yeah well you should have…" Blink faltered in the beginnings of his tirade. "Everyone makes mistakes, right? And that's all it was. Don't…don't be so hard on yourself. I love you, Mush, I really do, and I promise that's not going to change, just…let me get a grip on everything that's happening right now, okay?"

Mush nodded his head in agreement, "I love you too, Blink, and I promise I never meant for any of this to happen."

Before Blink could decide to fill in the awkward silence with more awkward communication a loud crash came from the hallway followed by muttered but clear "Fuck."

Blink and Mush exchanged glances before following the rest of the class rushing for the hallway to see what the commotion was all about.

Immediately upon seeing the circle and hearing the beginning of the chant "Fight, fight, fight," going around the room Blink hopped up onto Mush's shoulder's, trying to get a better look.

"Sean's being double teamed by the Delancy brothers," Blink narrated for Mush. "He's got Morris in a headlock while Oscar looks to be recovering from a punch in the stomach…or a kick in the stomach, I'm not quite sure," he explained as quickly as possible. "And Oscar's back up, but Sean saw it coming and he's already thrown Morris away from him. He keeps dodging Oscar's punches. He just punched Oscar in the face. Ow, that has to hurt. His nose definitely does not look right. And here comes Morris again…"

"Where's Masson?" Mush asked as if just realizing that the Delancy brother's wouldn't engage in a fight without Masson's consent.

"Already passed out. Jack's there too, looking a little winded but not too bad. Ouch, Sean just got tripped and then kicked. But he's already back up. Wow, the kid's got some good reaction time," Blink continued to narrate.

"Are you sure we really want Sean to win?" Mush asked with hesitance.

Blink shrugged from on top of his shoulders. "Sure. I mean, Sean's just threatened me; the Delancy brothers have been teasing us our entire lives. Ooh, the second Delancy's down caused by an elbow in the side. Dodge and jab; now that's real fighting style."

"Are you sure we should be complimenting him?" Mush asked again.

"We're not thinking about any of that now," Blink answered, turning more serious. "Right now we're just enjoying watching a kid that can finally take both Delancy brothers out at once. Uh-oh, Jack's come into play; they're circling. Jack's jumped him! They're on the floor…lots of punches… Lift me up higher; I can't see. Shit…teacher…never mind, put me down; let's get back to class."

* * *

"I would have totally had you," Jack grumbled as soon as they were made to wait in the office.

"No, you wouldn't have," Spot answered, "Plus, you came in right after a kicked three other guys' asses; if you were any good you would have taken care of me easily."

"I was holding back," Jack explained with a grin.

"Yeah? So was I," Spot replied as he smirked right back.

"So…uh…how much trouble do you think we're in? I doubt we could say that we were just messing around and I really can't afford to get into too much trouble," Jack explained, taking on a more serious expression.

Spot gave a slight nod of agreement.

"Acting all chummy with each other might be a good idea," Jack mused, "That way they'll think we won't start another fight. We definitely have to act sorry. We can just say we were fighting over a girl. I mean, I know you don't swing that way, but…"

"Fighting over a girl," Spot repeated, cutting off Jack to save him from rambling like a moron. "Fine."

"Do you think we'll get out of here soon? I kind of had plans right after school," Jack said after a few seconds pause.

Spot shrugged.

"You're an awesome conversationalist," Jack commented. "Are you worried about the trouble we're going to get into?"

"I've been through worse," Spot answered.

"Yeah? You been in a lot of fights then? You're pretty good for a midget," Jack replied.

Spot smirked, "You're pretty good for a gay wrestler."

"What the hell is it with people and thinking I'm gay all of a sudden?" Jack asked, feigning anger. "It's not like I go around hitting on guys or anything. What about me is gay?"

"It'd be easier to ask what about you is straight," Spot replied with a smirk.

"Mr. Conlon, Mr. Kelly," the principal called from his office, "We're ready for you."

* * *

"Hey," Racetrack greeted Sean as soon as he saw him exit the building. "I saw the fight. How much trouble did you get into?"

"Minimal," Spot answered, "A few detentions. Do you have something for me?"

"Uh…yeah," Racetrack replied, fishing around in his pocket for the fifty dollars. "Here," he said, handing it over in a wad, "You can count that; it should all be there."

"When am I coming over?" Spot asked distractedly as he looked the money over.

"About fix o'clock on Saturday," Racetrack responded, "Miraculously my mom said 'yes' when I asked her about it. Now all we have to do is try and get out of the house."

"Fine," Spot agreed before starting to walk away. "I'll see you then."

"Oh, make sure to take that same car again, alright?" Racetrack asked, following Spot to his motorcycle.

"Don't worry; I know what I'm doing," Spot answered. "Oh, and here," he said, handing over a piece of paper, "This is where you're going to take your car if you want it repaired on the house. Just ask for Gadget or Speed…one of them should be there."

"Is this legit?" Racetrack asked as he eyed the card.

"Very," Spot replied as he rolled his eyes. "Now if that's it…"

"Is it true you're gay?" Racetrack asked bluntly. "I heard Specs mumbling about how he couldn't believe you were a fag during the fight," he explained without hesitation.

Spot smirked, "What? You couldn't tell? God, people from Manhattan have the shittiest gaydar. Just because I don't have limp wrists and talk with a lisp doesn't mean I'm not gay."

"How the hell did you actually become a gang leader when you're gay?" Racetrack asked.

Spot shrugged, not seeming very concerned, "Not many people know, so I would keep it to yourself while in Brooklyn."

"Yeah," Racetrack agreed quietly as Spot drove off.

* * *

1 In case you didn't get the references… (Don't worry you don't have to remember them for the quiz)

Obnoxious Fag One – Skittery/Itey

Obnoxious Fag Two – Skittery/Itey

Annoying Art Fag – Kid Blink

Naïve Fool – Mush

_I know I haven't reviewed in awhile and I'm terribly sorry about that. On the upside, look at how long this chapter is! Over 12000 words. Holy shit, right? Also, I've got chapter 14 done (all I need to do is edit it some) and chapter 15 is well on it's way (it's being written in my head even as we speak)._

_Again, I apologize for the super slow update. Real life's a bitch, you know?_

_Truthfully the only reason I started in on the story again was because I was reading past reviews so you have yourselves to thank for this chapter. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, reviewers, without you this chapter might have never came to be. Please, keep it up._

_Until next time, my darlings,_

_ - Please Don't Hold Back_


	14. Light Bulbs and Screwdrivers

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough.

Summary of Chapter 13:  
-Slingshot gets forced into revealing what happened on his date  
-Jack and the druggies get into a big fight. Jack promises not to stay over at their houses anymore  
-Spot agrees to go over to Racetrack's on Saturday  
-Mush confesses that he told Itey about Spot  
-David punched Specs  
-Jack makes plans to stay at Swifty's house for the night  
-Itey, Skittery, and Mush all agree to go to the Nutcracker together. Blink has yet to decide.  
-Spot gets into a fight with Masson, the Delancy brothers, and Jack

Getting Back Together Again

**XIV  
Light Bulbs and Screwdrivers **

"Wow…two fights in one day; the teachers must have been pissed off as fuck," Skittery laughed.

"I bet they were amazed that we didn't start at least one of them," Itey mused, "Of course, I guess we kind of did…with that whole Specs-sucks-and-David's-gay-with-Bumlets conversation."

"We should really avoid saying anything gay in front of Specs from now on," Dutchy suggested.

"I refuse to be censored!" Skittery shouted "Also," he continued with a calmer air about him as he noticed that the car was approaching the neighborhood and so their ride would soon be over, "I refuse to go home, so who's putting me up for the night?"

"My parents are out visiting family or doing something about work or…something else…" Itey answered with absolutely no conviction before admitting, "I actually have no idea what my parents are doing, but the important thing is that they aren't home and won't be until really late tomorrow night."

"Sweet," Skittery replied, "Does that mean we can fuck on the kitchen table like we've always talked about doing but have never actually been able to manage?"

"Sorry," Itey apologized, "While my parents aren't home, my sister is so we can't fuck anywhere inappropriate because that'll probably scar her for the rest of her life and then my parents will get all pissed off and probably ground me because they're loveless bastards who dream about my death every night. I can blow you in the back of my car like last night though."

"Ew," Dutchy exclaimed from the back seat of Itey's car as he practically leaped on Bumlets' lap.

"He said that on purpose, Dutch," Bumlets tried to explain. "Plus, they've probably fucked in every place we've ever gone so you pretty much just have to ignore it and pretend that you _don't_ actually smell cum in your bed."

Skittery smirked, "Doing it on your bed was definitely one of the best times ever, right Sweetie?"

"I think doing it in the warehouse we hang out to smoke in was cooler, but Bumlets' bed was definitely right up there," Itey replied.

"You guys are gross," Dutchy commented, still sitting on Bumlets' lap. "Have you seriously ever done it on my bed? Because if you have I'm going to have to buy a new mattress and I'm definitely making you two pay for it."

"Relax, Dutchy," Bumlets said, "My bed has never smelled like cum…at least not without a valid reason involving me anyway."

"Oh god, they've got you too," Dutchy exclaimed, "I can't believe you're making crude jokes with them…you've completely betrayed me man."

"Better than freaking out every time they so much as mention the word 'cum'," Bumlets replied, not looking all that hurt at his friend's suggestion.

"Yeah," Skittery agreed right away, "You're such a virgin, man…seriously. You ever think about going out and getting laid sometime? It'd probably get you to loosen up a lot more."

"You all talk about sex as if it was what you were having for dinner or something," Dutchy complained. "It's supposed to be something beautiful between two people who love each other."

"Spoken like a true virgin," Itey spoke up from behind the wheel.

"It's sex!" Skittery burst out, "It's not a beautiful declaration of love; it's sex! I mean, come on. It's only that way if you force it to be. In its most basic state it's procreation, in its best state it's a good time, and in its worst state it's a way to spread disease. Lighten up and stop letting yourself get brainwashed for god's sake."

"Does someone want to tell me where we're going?" Itey interrupted, "Because I just passed everyone's houses and I have no idea where I'm supposed to stop. Suggestions?"

"Food? Movie? Drugs?" Skittery started naming random things in his goal to help Itey. "I could go for some drugs."

"My parents decided that the FBI were on to them and flushed all the weed plants and pot down the toilet last night," Bumlets admitted. "I was so devastated I almost didn't go to school today, but then I decided that refusing to leave my room and spending the whole day in mourning wouldn't bring them back."

"Skittery and I don't have any money; we have to save everything we have for the Nutcracker tomorrow," Itey explained.

"Nutcracker? That sounds painful…and a little funny," Skittery mused. "Though I have to admit I didn't hear about it until now…which is odd since you're supposed to tell me everything."

"Plans were made not even a few hours ago," Itey explained, "Mush invited us. Apparently Blink's supposed to come to, but don't get your hopes up on that front."

"So it's pretty much guaranteed to be a dramatic and straining day," Skittery concluded. "Alright, I'm totally there with you man."

"The infamous antisocial Skittery and Itey, hanging out with two other people who aren't us of their own free will," Dutchy announced, "It feels like I've somehow ended up in the Twilight Zone."

"Shut up Dutchy," Skittery replied, "You're way too young for that reference…unless you've suddenly turned forty without telling me."

"So what do you guys want to do?" Itey interrupted again, "I'd really prefer it if I didn't have to run out of gas today."

"I want Dutchy to get off of me," Bumlets said, directing his gaze at the person still sitting on his lap. "You knew Skittery and Itey have had sex back here before, right? You laughed when the principal caught them naked back here. Why the hell are you freaking out about this now?"

"Because your lap's comfortable," Dutchy sarcastically admitted with a grin.

"Get the hell off of me," Bumlets commanded as he shoved Dutchy back into his original seat.

"Let's get back on track," Itey suggested. "Where are we going, guys?"

"You want to go to David's house? See what he's doing?" Bumlets asked. "We can see what getting in trouble for the first time in his life did to him."

"Okay," Skittery shrugged when everyone looked to him to see if he would turn down the idea. "Do you know where he lives?"

"Pretty sure," Bumlets answered before he started in with the directions.

* * *

"Hey Bossman," Hunter greeted as soon as Spot walked into their hideout. "Slingshot wanted me to tell you that he's off training new recruits and that Speed and Gadget left to uh…do something car related…I wasn't really listening."

"Do you ever?" Spot muttered before taking the flight of stairs that led to his room.

"Hey! I listen sometimes," Hunter argued, following his boss even when receiving a glare from him that clearly said not to, "It's just that Sling gets a little boring sometimes, you know? I guess I just drift off every once in awhile."

"Right," Spot grumbled, not really caring either way, "When Slingshot gets back tell him to find me. As for you…if you follow me one more step I'm going to break your arm."

"Oh…" Hunter replied as he stopped right yeah he was, "Thanks for the warning, Bossman. Was it a bad day for you then? Because I know this great massage therapist; she does miracles, I swear."

"You better make sure I don't hear your voice for the rest of the day either," Spot warned, not even looking at Hunter to make sure he got the message before walking up the stairs towards his room.

Hunter just stood there as Spot left, beaming and nodding.

"What the hell are you standing around and smiling like a doffus for?" Bam asked as soon as he saw him. "Are you high? Because if you got some weed and didn't offer me any I am gonna be so pissed."

"What, I can't simply be happy?" Hunter asked back, his bright smile still refusing to fade. "I have to be on some type of drug in order to feel comfortable smiling? I know we're in a gang and everything, but that doesn't mean I can't have a good time every once in awhile."

"Right," Bam scoffed, not at all believing him. "Why don't you tell me what part of this fun gang life is making you smile on the glorious day down in the slums of Brooklyn?"

"Nothing!" Hunter insisted, "I was talking to Spot, he snapped at me, I was told not to follow him, and here I stand. Why can't I just be happy because I'm happy, huh? Why's there always gotta be a reason for it?"

Bam rolled his eyes, "There is a reason for it, nitwit. And the reason is Spot. You get all giddy when he yells at you. God, you're such a masochist. You know, one of these days he's going to get fed up and just off you. That's a little warning from me to you."

"And a lovely warning it was, Friend," Hunter congratulated, "But I really have no idea what you're talking about. Are you sure you haven't been the one not sharing weed?"

"Please, you're an open book," Bam insisted. "Sure, most of the time you try to be, but even when you try to keep things a secret it doesn't work. You get off on Spot using you as a punching bag, admit it."

"Yeah, well, you're pretty," Hunter shot back.

"Hey! I am not!" Bam shouted. "Take it back, ya shit-head."

"But pretty doesn't even really cover it," Hunter continued, "I think beautiful is a more fitting adjective…or perhaps gorgeous… Oh! I know…! You're just so-"

Bam knocked him up the stairs before landing on top of him. "God damn it, Hunt, if you even think about finishing that sentence you _will_ die," he snarled.

"You know, I don't think it's just Spot that gets me off by yelling at me," Hunter said calmly, "I think I just have a kink for cute little boys who act domineering. Like you, right now? You wouldn't believed how turned on I-"

Bam didn't hesitate to punch him. "Little fucking fucker," he grumbled mostly to himself before getting up and stalking off in a huff.

"Hiya Stealth," Hunter greeted as he massaged his punched jaw. "How long have you been standing there? You couldn't've jumped in before I got punched?"

Stealth just stared at him from his place on the wall.

"God, you are one _creepy_ mother fucker," Hunter muttered loud enough to make sure Stealth heard before he got up and continued up the stairs in order to get to his room.

* * *

"Hey!" Jack shouted as soon as he let himself in Swifty's front door. "I came a little early, dude. Hope that's cool and everything."

"Yeah, it's cool," Swifty assured as he came down the stairs located right in front of the door. "Come on up, dude. Where are your clothes and shit?" he asked as soon as he saw that Jack didn't have a bag with him.

Jack shrugged, "Never went home. Didn't see much point in it. I can just borrow some of your clothes, right?"

"Always, dude," Swifty answered. In the back of his mind a voice was telling him that now would be the perfect time to ask about Jack's living condition, but he ignored it. Why ruin the entire weekend? But if not now, when? But, then again, if something _were_ wrong Jack would know to tell him, right?

"So I don't know about you," Jack began, unknowingly interrupting the argument going on in his friend's head. "But I'm in a crazy mood to play Super Smash Brothers. You still have it right? Haven't loaned it to anyone?"

"Just got it back a coupla days ago, actually," Swifty smiled before heading back upstairs. "You should count yourself lucky."

"Always," Jack grinned before following his friend up.

"Well, you might change your opinion after I beat you a few dozen tons," Swifty warned. "You better not have forgotten how much I kick ass at that game."

"Yeah, if by 'kick ass' you actually mean 'suck ass'," Jack snorted.

"Alright, that's it, Cowboy. I don't even think you realize how much I am going to own you by the end of this thing," Swifty replied with a superior tone.

* * *

"Open up, Davey!" Skittery shouted as he pounded on the door.

Itey leaned a shoulder against the side of the doorway. "You think he doesn't want to see us?" he asked in a pseudo-hurt voice.

"I'm sure all the screaming and banging is really starting to persuade him," Bumlets replied with sarcasm from where he was sitting on the railing.

"The neighbors keep glaring at us," Dutchy pointed out as he worriedly glanced around from his spot right next to Bumlets. "Could you please stop making so much noise?"

"Hey!" Itey shouted angrily, "Don't stifle my boyfriend's freedom to make as much noise as he god damn pleases! Isn't that covered in the Bill of Rights?"

Bumlets snorted, "I'm pretty sure they left that one out. …Unless you're talking about 'disturbing the peace', which is kind of the same only it attracts police officers."

"Come on Davey! Unlock the fucking door! You know you want to!" Skittery shouted, apparently ignoring the conversation going on around him.

"Can you please be quiet?" Dutchy hissed, looking around at all the people glaring at them. "Someone actually is going to call the cops pretty soon. Do you even realized how pissed my parents would be if that happened?"

"You need to lighten up, Dutch," Itey commanded, seemingly not caring about the threat of police as he watched Skittery continue to obnoxiously bang on the door. "If worse comes to worse we'll just out run them. You can hear police sirens from miles away; no worries."

"Didn't we call him?" Skittery burst out angrily, kicking the door, "Didn't we tell him that we'd be coming over?"

"Actually, I don't think we did," Itey answered, looking a little confused. "Come to think of it, I'm almost positive that we forgot that part. Do you think we should have called first?"

"He's probably not even home," Skittery shrugged, immediately indifferent as opposed to pissed as hell. "Huh. When do you think he'll get home?"

"Don't know," Itey shrugged. "But I'm all up for chilling out here until he does."

"Maybe he's grounded," Dutchy proposed. "Maybe he's home but he's not coming to the door because he's not allowed to and by being here we're getting him into even more trouble."

"Or, maybe, his parents are so pissed at him that they tied him up and are at this very moment torturing the life out of him in order to teach him that getting into fights is wrong," Skittery suggested, looking a little too dementedly happy with the prospect.

"Actually," Bumlets interrupted as he looked around in mild confusion, "I'm thinking this isn't his house. I might have got the address wrong. I'm pretty sure it's 1519, not 1915. Plus, this doesn't really look like what I remember his house looks like."

"Oh, shit," Skittery mumbled, looking a little thrown. "Well that's a little embarrassing."

"Okay," Itey spoke up, suddenly sounding very uncomfortable as he moved towards his car parked on the street. "How about we get the fuck out of here before people start coming at us with angry, fire-y pitchforks?"

"Good plan," Bumlets consented easily before swinging off the railing into the yard and walking as fast as he could towards the car.

"Oh god," Dutchy muttered before he quickly followed. "I don't have a fucking clue why I hang out with you guys."

"Oh! Shot gun!" Skittery called out happily before sprinting ahead and beating them all to the car.

* * *

"Oh! Oh! Fuck! That's good! Oh, _fuck_, that's good. Oh! Suck it, boy! You like that?"

"Shut the fuck up, man. Do you know how big of a distraction you are? Do you know how much I want to- Oh! God! Fucking- Fuck me."

Swifty laughed long and loud. "I'm sorry, who sucks ass? Because I'm pretty sure it's you!"

"Just because Link apparently can't fight worth shit doesn't make it my fault," Jack objected.

"Oh, man, that excuse is so lame I'm not even going to dispute it," Swifty replied happily. "Oh god, I love my fucking awesome video gaming skillz. 'Skillz' with a 'z', mind you, because those are the best kind."

"Keep it up and I will not hesitate to beat your ass," Jack growled. "How the fucking fuck could I have fucking lost fucking six times in a fucking row?"

"Maybe losing is where your talent lies," Swifty mused before sighing with happiness. "Oh, Kirby, I love your little pink ass."

"Does Kirby even have an ass?" Jack asked, suddenly not seeming to be angry at all.

Swifty shrugged, "He must. I mean, how else are people supposed to kiss it, right? Oh, and that way he eats people? …So totally cute. Seriously, I could just hug the fucking shit out of him. …You know…if he was ever made 3D and solid and ate someone right in front of me."

"Do you need to be alone with your little crush?" Jack asked, quite visibly more than a little weirded out. "Because I could do that for you. I could just leave the room and you can get done whatever it is you need to get done and we won't have to ever speak of this again."

Swifty rolled his eyes, "Okay, enough of being a sore loser. I know you're only making fun of the special relationship Kirby and I have because you're jealous you can't have the same thing with Link."

"Yeah, well, I don't know how I'm supposed to coop. I love the little archer but I turn around for just a second and someone else is playing with him," Jack replied, playing along. "What do you do when the love of your video gaming career is a man-whore? It tears me up inside, it really does."

"Poor Jack," Swifty sarcastically cooed, "I had no idea you and Link were having so many problems. Is there anything I can do? Would some free pizza make you feel better?"

Jack faked a sniffle, "Can there be pepperoni and mushrooms on it?"

"Pepperoni, mushrooms, extra cheese, and green peppers?" Swifty haggled.

"Order enough to keep until Sunday morning?"

"So we can sit around in our own filth eating pizza the entire weekend and worrying about nothing else?"

"So Monday morning we both have to wash our hair twice to get all the grease out of it, but we don't because that just takes way too much work?"

"I am so glad we're on the same wave length."

"Totally with you on that one."

* * *

"Are we sure this is his house this time?" Dutchy asked worriedly. "Why don't we just call him and make sure? What the hell is the problem with calling him to make sure it's fine if we come over?"

"Because," Itey answered as if Dutchy was an idiot, "By just showing up at his door the chance to hang out with him goes up a lot more, especially if he did get grounded. We'll give his parents pitiful looks and they won't be able to kick us out."

"Plus, it's more fun this way, what with the surprise and all," Skittery backed up.

Dutchy looked at Bumlets, hoping to get his agreement, but Bumlets just rolled his eyes with a grin, shrugged, and asked, "So is someone going to knock anytime soon?"

The door opened before anyone had a chance to.

"What are you idiots doing here?" Sarah snapped as soon as she saw them. "Hoping to get David into even more trouble?"

"No," Dutchy snapped right back, "We're actually over to console him."

"And congratulate him," Skittery added happily. "So where is our favorite genius?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Inside, in his room, busy being grounded. You losers can see him at school Monday. Now get out of here."

"You crush us with your hostility," Itey sarcastically pouted, "Where's the love?"

"So are the folks home?" Skittery asked. "Because if not there are some really fun things I can do with a light bulb and a screw diver that I'm sure you'll love. …Provided you consent and don't have a problem with nudity."

"Ew," Sarah replied, "Get the hell out of here, you pervert, and take your little friends with you."

"I thought the light bulb and screw driver was our thing, precious," Itey interrupted in mock hurt. "Why do you have to go and taint it by offering to do it to someone else?"

"Alright, that's enough," Sarah snapped, having no problem showing her disgust. "You can't see David, you can't see me, and you are certainly never allowed in this house. Bye now."

"You wound us," Skittery whined, quickly sticking his foot in the entryway to stop Sarah from slamming the door. "And not only with your words, but with your door too," he muttered mostly to himself, "I mean, seriously, ow. Would it kill you to slam things with a little less force?"

"You think you'd be a little bit nicer to the people who have been great friends to both you and your darling brother," Itey mused. "I mean, we've known you both since forever. I mean, we've been with you through all your ups and downs."

"Like, remember the time we were all staying up in that old warehouse for the night and we all played truth and dare?" Skittery reminisced.

"That night meant so much to me," Itey continued, "I've kept all the pictures, even after all this time."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "Okay, I get it. …Blackmail, right? …Very nice guys. I thought I couldn't hate you anymore than I already did, but, surprise, you guys just proved me wrong."

"Ah, Sarah, again with the hurtful words," Skittery replied with fake hurt.

Sarah opened the door wider and stepped aside, "You just better be glad Mom and Dad aren't home. David's up in his room. Make your visit short and then get the hell outta here and stop bugging me. And, for the record, after today, if not every single one of those pictures of that night are destroyed I will make sure you aren't around long enough to tell anyone."

"Threatening," Skittery commented before stepping in.

"I'm kind of proud," Itey said, following Skittery in. "It makes me feel all warm inside knowing we taught our little Sarah how to scarily threaten someone."

"And it was," Dutchy congratulated, speaking up for the first time since Sarah opened the door. "Scary, I mean. Really, not only do I kind of believe you, I also have this great need to flee."

"Hey, Sarah," Bumlets greeted as he ended the line going in. "What's up?"

"My blood pressure," Sarah answered. "I can trust you to get rid of those pictures, right?"

"Yeah, I can get it done," Bumlets promised, staying with Sarah as the others went upstairs. "Might take a couple of days though."

"It's fine," Sarah assured, "Just make sure they don't get out, okay? God, my life would be over."

"Don't worry," Bumlets comforted, "I owe it to you anyway. Think of this as payback for all the dolls and make up I stole from you way back when. You make sure that never gets out and I'll make sure your secrets never get out."

Sarah gave a sigh of relief before rushing into a hug. "Out of all of them, you were always my favorite. You know that, right? God," she laughed, "It's really too bad you're gay; I could really fall for a guy like you."

Bumlets sighed for a very different reason as he returned the hug. He really wished people would stop jumping to conclusions about how much he liked the male gender. "Yeah, if only," he replied, deciding that it'd be easier to agree and go along with it rather than try to argue that he was straight.

* * *

"What? How can that be a bad thing? That's great man!" Skittery was busy declaring as Bumlets walked into the room.

"I got detention, Skitts," David pointed out, "I got detention for the first time since…ever. Not to mention the fact that my parents are incredibly angry about the entire thing and grounded me for a month. Wait…how did you get in here again?"

"So what'd your parents say?" Dutchy asked, trying to stop David from finding out his sister was being blackmailed. "I mean, what'd they think about the whole…I-punched-Specs-because-I'm-gay-and-he-can't-handle-it thing?"

"Um…they don't exactly know that's why we were fighting," David admitted. "I haven't really…uh… You see, my parents don't really completely know I'm gay. They're more into the thinking-their-son-is-straight thing."

"Have you told them or are they in denial?" Dutchy asked sympathetically.

"I'm afraid I'm not really gutsy enough to… I mean, I'm afraid of what they'll think," David confessed. "It kind of feels like I'm letting them down somehow…if that makes any sense."

"Completely," Dutchy assured with a smile.

"So, sorry for ruining the love scene going on between you two," Skittery interrupted, not sounding at all sorry, "but if your parents don't know what happened what'd you say the fight was about?"

"I didn't," David answered. "I kind of just sat quietly until they decided the fight had been about a girl."

Itey snorted. "More like it was about a boy, eh Bumlets?"

"So, have you guys talked to Specs? Is he okay? Because I never got a chance to apologize or anything and I can't go out but I really want to see him and apologize. Unfortunately with me being grounded and the weekend coming up I have to wait until Monday and I really don't think I can do that," Davd ranted.

Skittery shrugged, "Didn't see him, don't want to see him, and you'd be beyond stupid if you thought we would."

"I will," Dutchy spoke up. "I'll go over and see him tomorrow, check to see how he's doing, make sure he knows you're sorry…you know, the works."

"I'm disgusted with you and your existence," Itey snapped before sadly shaking his head.

David frowned at Itey.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to stop him from going or anything," Itey said defensively.

Skittery swung his arm onto Itey's shoulders, "We have the Nutcracker to attend anyway. We're getting all cultured and shit with opera."

"Isn't it ballet?" Itey asked. "Is it really an opera? Because I don't think I could stand an opera. I hate it when fat chicks sing and break glass."

"Huh," Skittery replied. "Can they really break glass? Because that's kind of cool."

"Yeah," Itey agreed reluctantly, "It kind of is, but wouldn't it suck if glass broke and flew into your eye?"

"Ow," Skittery said, "More importantly, what if that happened to Blink? The poor little Cyclops would be blind."

"Exactly what I'm saying. So we're agreed? No operas?"

"I was kind of looking forward to watching people get their nuts cracked though."

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "It's a ballet, not an opera."

"Told you!"

"Hey," Dutchy whispered over to Bumlets while Itey and Skittery were arguing over who told whom what and David was trying to referee the whole thing. "What if…um…when I went over to Specs' you came with me?"

Bumlets shrugged, "Yeah, that'll be fine, I guess. I don't have anything else better to do anyway. I can break his jaw if he annoys me too much, though, right? Because if I can't do that I'm not sure I could bear to be around him."

"Bum, please, this is serious," Dutchy pleaded quietly.

"More serious than the fact that David asked us to check on him?" Bumlets questioned, knowing the answer would be 'yes' but not knowing why.

"Well, yes, I guess so," Dutchy answered. "I mean, it's more serious for me anyway. So please? Will you come and not punch anyone in the face?"

"Yeah, okay," Bumlets agreed, "but I'm not going to hesitate to threaten him if he gets on my nerves."

"Yeah, no, that's fine. I mean, feel free," Dutchy replied before leaning in farther and using an even quieter voice. "Uh, when we go? …Over to Dutchy's, I mean. Will you pretend like we're together so he'll get jealous and admit his undying love for me?"

"What? Hell no," Bumlets hissed back. "Why does it seem like I'm the token gay boy in our group when in fact I'm the only one who's straight? Why don't you ask Skittery or Itey or, hell, try David, I don't care. I'm not doing it."

"Bumlets, please?" Dutchy whined. "This is _really_ important! I really like Specs and I know he likes me to, but he's just… We're meant to be together, you know? I can feel it."

"You feel that way about everyone," Bumlets quietly snapped back, "If you just wait it out for awhile in two weeks time you'll like someone else."

"No, I won't!" Dutchy insisted. "Please do this for me, Bum. I promise to love you forever and ever and do whatever you want whenever you want and…and… You have no idea what this would mean to me."

"Oh, God, stop!" Itey's shout interrupted them. "No more tickling! I give! I give! You win! You're right! You're king and master of everything!"

Skittery beamed and pumped his fist into the air. "Sweet. Now, do as your master commands and take me somewhere to have sex with me."

"Sir, yes sir," Itey agreed before getting up and walking towards the door. He turned back around to Dutchy and Bumlets, "You guys want a ride back home? Because I'm thinking after Skittery and I find ourselves alone together I'm going to be too sore to drive for awhile."

"Ride, yes," Dutchy replied as he got up as well. "But, please, for the love of all that is good and trippy, do not, _ever_, tell me if you are or will be sore because of Skittery, okay?"

"See you on Monday," Bumlets said to David with a friendly smile before starting to follow the others out. "Tell me as soon as your grounding's over, okay? We'll hang out or some shit like that," he ordered over his shoulder.

* * *

_A/N:_

Sorry, it's pretty short compared to my last chapter and it's mostly just a filler, but a chapter's a chapter, right? Next chapter's going to be pretty intense though. Don't know exactly when I'll get it up (it's 4000 words and no where close to being done), but I am working on it.

Also, out of the fifty-some hits I got for my last chapter only two people reviewed. I almost cried and that was extremely embarrassing for me. Please review guys, you have no idea how happy it makes me when you do.

Until next time (which is hopefully sometime soon),

-Please Don't Hold Back


	15. Cracked Nuts

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Summary of Chapter 14:  
-Bam claims Hunter gets off on Spot yelling at him  
-Jack spends the night at Swifty's house  
-Skittery, Itey, Bumlets, and Dutchy go to David's house  
-Dutchy asks Bumlets to come to Specs house with him. Bumlets agrees.  
-Dutchy asks Bumlets to pretend to be his boyfriend so Specs will become jealous. Bumlets refuses.

Getting Back Together Again

**XV  
Cracked Nuts  
**

"Well hey, baby," a girl in a towel cooed at Spot as soon as she stepped out of the shower and saw him.

"Am I supposed to know who you are?" Spot asked nonchalantly. "Though I can't say I'm not enjoying just looking," he continued, clearly roaming his eyes all over her body without shame.

"Oh shit, sorry Boss," Hunter apologized as soon as he ran into the room, "She's with me. We're just starting the end of our date, if you know what I mean."

The girl smiled at him flirtatiously, "Not that we wouldn't mind a little more company, Cutie.

"Oh, no," Hunter argued immediately, "We so would. Ew. I refuse to fuck my boss for you. Now, if we got your friend What's-Her-Name over here? Then we could have some _real_ fun."

"Sorry, Hunt, I want you all to myself this morning," Spot interrupted before turning towards the girl and giving her a not-so-pleasant smile, "I think it would be best if you left."

"Seriously?" the girl asked, looking quite affronted. "Fine, suit yourself. I've got better things to do anyway," she huffed before turning away and walking out the bathroom door.

Speed brushed past her as he walked in, "What are we all doing in the bathroom? And who's the chick? Are you guys getting kinky without me? Because that's just rude; it's my bathroom too, you know."

"Find her," Spot ordered with disinterest, "Then kill her. Have Hunter find somewhere to dump the body; she's his mistake."

Speed sighed in reluctance, "I'm on it Boss, but it _is_ a shame; she's a hot little thing."

"Wait, kill her? Why kill her?" Hunter asked in anxiety. "That's not fair. I don't even get why you're jealous! You've got Slingshot as your bitch so why can't I have one?"

"You know the rules: no one comes in here unless they're part of the gang," Spot reminded him dispassionately before beginning to turn away.

"Yeah? And what about that little freak with the crush on you?" Hunter asked angrily. "Last time I check _he_ wasn't part of the gang. When are we going to kill _him_? Or, hey, wait a minute, maybe we _aren't_ going to kill him because he's _your_ **bitch**! Is that it?"

Spot sighed in frustration. "He's my problem; I'll deal with him. You have any trouble with that?" he challenged.

"And? What if I do?" Hunter asked, not looking at all intimidated.

Spot narrowed his eyes. "If you're not for me you become the enemy and I'll treat you as such," he stated coldly.

"You're going to kill me just because I think you're being unfair?" Hunter asked in livid disbelief. "This is bullshit. You're turning into a fucking Nazi or something. I didn't sign on for that."

"I can't afford to take chances, you know that," Spot explained. "I have my 'bitch' under control; I can't really say the same for you right now."

Hunter took a few seconds to stare angrily at his boss before he visibly backed off. "You have me under control," he reluctantly relented, "Whatever you want is yours, you know that."

"Go dump the body," Spot ordered without any malevolence. "And if you ever bring someone here without my permission again you're going to wish you didn't just repledge your loyalty," he warned before turning away.

Hunter sighed and massaged his forehead before turning to go find his now most likely dead date. "It's way too early for this crap…either that or too late," he muttered to himself.

* * *

"We're going to a ballet," Itey announced proudly as soon as he stepped into Skittery's house.

"Culture, here we come," Skittery warned. "So what's it about anyway? Because cracked nuts does not sound very ballet-y. You think it's like a kung fu ballet or something?"

Itey shrugged, "No idea. We really should have asked Bumlets yesterday; I bet he would know. You think it'll be any good?"

"Hey, if it isn't we can always just make out and get everyone around us completely and utterly uncomfortably until we get kicked out," Skittery reasoned.

"Sounds like a good enough plan. …Mush and Blink might be a little pissed at us though," Itey replied.

Skittery just shrugged, "Eh, we'll buy them a fruit basket or something. I'm sure they'll get over it, you know…eventually."

"God, we're awful friends," Itey realized. "Okay, new rule: no making out or fucking while we're out with Mush and Blink…unless we're alone in the bathroom, of course. I kind of want to keep them as friends and scaring them off is something that would be incredibly bad."

"You think we can actually manage that?" Skittery asked uncertainly. "I mean, I'm totally with you on the whole wanting to keep them as friends thing, don't get me wrong, but not sexually assaulting you every chance I get is going to be fucking hard."

Itey furrowed his brows. "Yeah, it really will be, won't it?" he asked as if he just realized it. "Maybe if we reward yourselves with sex only if we manage to _not_ do anything during The Nutcracker."

"That won't work!" Skittery claimed, "I'll just be thinking about it the entire time and that'll make me want to jump you even more; I'm an instant gratification type of guy."

"Okay, so we'll just reward ourselves with something else," Itey suggested while he struggled to think of a good reward.

"Pft, like there's anything better than sex," Skittery brushed off. "Good luck thinking of something."

"If you don't jump me you can that Sex Pistols shirt of mine that you like so much," Itey bargained.

"No shit?" Skittery asked with excitement. "Fucking kick ass. Okay."

"Sweet," Itey replied happily, "It's a deal then. Now, come on, let's go. Do you even realize how much sex we have to get in before we go pick up Mush so I won't be as horny as all fuck throughout the entire ballet/opera thing?"

"Hey, sounds like a good enough idea to me," Skittery smirked before following him.

* * *

"But you said you would!" Dutchy whined as he followed Bumlets around on Saturday morning.

"I said 'yes' to going to Specs' house," Bumlets reminded him, "But I very clearly remember saying 'no' to the whole fake boyfriend thing. I'm getting pretty damn tired of being gay for everyone; I'm straight, god damn it."

"But this is important!" Dutchy pouted, "And before you say anything, I know I say that about all my crushes, but this one is different. And I know I always say that too, but this time I actually mean it."

"You always say _that_, too," Bumlets pointed out, "Face it, Dutch, even if you _were_ completely serious about Specs (and, truthfully, I don't think you are, though I _do_ think that _you_ think you are) you've cried wolf way too many times for me to actually take you seriously."

"There's nothing I can do to convince you to do this for me?" Dutchy asked pitifully. "What if I remind you that you're my best friend in the entire world? Or what if I promise to give you money? If you want I can do your homework for a month…for forever if you wanted me to. Please, Bum, this is really super fucking important."

"Your crushes are always super important," Bumlets claimed, "…Until two weeks later when you move onto someone else, and then _that_ crush is super important. And Specs? Come on, man, he's homophobic as fuck."

"Thus the jealous angle," Dutchy said as if it was obvious. "Please, Bumlets? You know I would do _anything_ for _you_, right?"

"Oh, hell, no, you are not guilt tripping me into this, Dutch," Bumlets snapped, "I refuse to be gay for you."

"Anything," Dutchy repeated, "And you won't even do this one little, tiny, minuscule, insignificant, itty bitty, minor, trivial-"

"Okay, stop with the synonyms already, god," Bumlets burst out, threading a hand through his hair and looking frustration. "Fuck. Fine."

Dutchy's eyes widen. "You'll do it? For reals? Oh god, Bumlets! I love you, you know that, right?" he exclaimed before pouncing on him and not letting him go, "You are the absolute _best_ friend a guy could _ever_ have. I love you! God, I love you _so_ much!" He kissed him on the check in his excitement.

"Okay, okay," Bumlets replied hurriedly before pushing Dutchy off of him, "Point taken. Can we please save all the PDA until we need it? And, just so you know, this is a big ass favor I'm doing you. You're going to still be paying me back when you're eighty fucking years old, understood?"

"Deal. No problem," Dutchy readily agreed while he beamed. "Have I already mentioned how much I love you? Or how much of a fucking good friend you are?" he asked as he bounced on his heels and let loose a giggle.

Bumlets sighed, hating that he actually agreed to help but knowing that there was no way he could back out. How the hell could he yell at David for letting Specs walk all over him? He just proved Dutchy could do the same thing to him. "Let's just go before I change my mind, alright?" he asked before heading towards the door.

* * *

"Wake the fuck up already, man," Jack demanded as he continually poked Swifty in the stomach. "I'm bored as shit and there's nothing to eat around here."

Swifty rolled over to face his friend and drowsily opened one eye. "You eat when you're bored?" he asked, his voice slightly raspy from just waking up, "That's such a fat kid thing to do. And there is so food here. Go stuff yourself until you throw up and let me sleep."

Jack sighed in frustration. "You're so boring, dude. Are you seriously just going to sleep through the entire day? What happened to us hanging out all day today? It'll be hard doing that if you're in bed."

"Was that a subtle hint that you want to sleep with me?" Swifty yawned, "Because I've gotta tell you, I'm not really cool with that. I mean, I don't really trust you enough to not think you'll do something perverted with my super hot body while I'm in a heavy sleep."

Jack smacked him lightly on the side of his head. "Please, you'd _love_ it if I did something perverted to your 'super hot body'," he claimed smugly, "It's so completely obvious how hot you are for me. But, I'm sorry; I can't return your feelings. I really hope we can get past this and still be friends though."

"You're just asking to be punched in the face," Swifty warned sleepily before burrowing into his covers a little more.

"At least it would get you out of bed," Jack muttered loud enough to make sure Swifty heard him.

Swifty mumbled incoherently before yawning widely.

"You're a terrible friend," Jack complained as he sat on the floor and leaned against the bed. "And not only that, but you're also an awful host. You're supposed to keep your guest entertained, in case you didn't know."

"You're more like an annoying little brother than a guest," Swifty pointed out. "There's food, there's television, there's Internet, there's video games; what more do you want? A pony?"

"Can it be a pink pony?" Jack asked with sarcastic glee.

Swifty burst out laughing before fully opening his eyes. "How did I become the one everyone thinks is gay?"

"You're the one that pictures all the guys naked, not me. That's way gayer than wanting a pink pony," Jack reminded him with a grin. "What do you think of Annabell for my new pony's name?" he mock mused.

"Annabell's very pretty," Swifty assured him. "Now get the hell out so I can go back to sleep."

"I thought you got over this," Jack replied. "What the hell is it with you and your obsessive need to sleep?"

"Cause without it I'll become an insane, unintelligible mess of a human being," Swifty lectured. "Since I'd really rather avoid that road I try my best to sleep on a regular basis. Why the hell do you insist on making me sleep deprived?"

"You've gotten plenty of sleep, dude," Jack argued. "Six hours is a pretty fucking good amount if you ask me."

"Not on the weekend, it's not," Swifty retorted. "The weekend is for sleeping."

"The weekend is for thinking about something besides school," Jack corrected right away. "Now get the fuck up and let's do something so awesome it'll make Monday seem like the worst day in our entire lives."

Swifty rolled his eyes before sighing. "You're not going to let me go back to sleep anytime soon, are you? Fine, let me just get some clothes."

* * *

"Hold my hand," Dutchy growled under his breath when he couldn't keep a hold of Bumlets' hand.

They were standing outside Specs' front door but had yet to knock. Dutchy kept leaning towards Bumlets in an attempt to physically show they were 'boyfriends' now, but every move he made towards his friend Bumlets followed in reverse.

Bumlets gave a half-hearted glare. "Do we absolutely have to do this? Why can't you be like a normal person and just tell the bastard you have a man-crush on him?"

"Bumlets," Dutchy whined pathetically before making another grab for his hand, "You know I can't do that. Didn't you already agree to do this? You can't just back out now. Please? What am I supposed to tell him now?"

"How about 'Hey, Specs! I'm a single gay boy with an immense crush on you. It'll probably go away within a few days, but if you feel like robbing me of this pesky virginity I have I would be forever grateful'," Bumlets mocked as he yanked his hand away from his friend yet again.

"_Please_, Bumlets," Dutchy started to beg. "I promise to love you forever if you just do this one, itty bitty thing for me."

"That's one of the things I'm afraid of, actually," Bumlets muttered, crossing his arms in an attempt to stop Dutchy from coming after his hands.

Dutchy groaned. "_That's_ what you're afraid of? I'm not going to get a crush on you, Bum, I swear. Not only because are you my best friend and I think of you like a brother, but also because my heart and entire being belong to Specs for ever and always."

"Yeah? You sure about that little comment? Because I'm pretty positive I remember just a couple of days ago when your heart belonged to Sean," Bumlets replied skeptically.

"But I told you 'this is different'!" Dutchy reminded him. "Please? I promise to buy you ice cream afterwards," he proposed.

"Really?" Bumlets asked in clearly sarcastic disbelief as his eyes widened and his arms uncrossed. "A real live date with the man of my dreams? Holy Shirly Temple! Are you serious? Don't lie to me because I'm just sure it'll crush my little heart. Do you really and truly mean it? A date? Yipee!"

"Shirly Temple?" Dutchy asked in confusion, for the moment ignoring everything else that was said.

"Sure, you know…Shirly Temple," Bumlets tried to explain, suddenly no longer agitated. "On the goooood ship, lol-li-pop," he sang, "Such a sweeeeet trip to the can-dy shop. Where bon bons plaaay on the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay-"

"I know who Shirly Temple is," Dutchy claimed, "I just… Why the hell Shirly Temple? And how the hell did you know that song off the top of your head?"

Bumlets shrugged nonchalantly. "I kind of grew up listening to Shirly Temple…secretly," he explained.

Dutchy sighed, "And you wonder why everyone just assumes you're gay."

"Okay, you know what? Maybe you shouldn't point out how gay I am when you're trying to talk me into helping you," Bumlets advised. "I don't want to be here, I don't want to do this, and the fact that you're making fun of me just makes my desire to leave that much greater."

"It wasn't an insult!" Dutchy claimed in hast, trying his best to placate his friend. "I was just pointing something out. I was trying to be helpful, really. Now that I understand that you don't want me to do it I won't. Please, please, _please_ help me, Bumlets."

The opening front door cut off whatever Bumlets was about to say.

"What are you guys doing hanging around outside my door?" Specs asked curiously. "You guys stalkers now? Because you aren't very good at it."

"Uh…we um…" Dutchy struggled, his gaze flickering from Bumlets to Specs and back again.

"Dutchy dragged me here," Bumlets answered in an uncaring voice. "He wanted to come visit you for some inane reason. I wouldn't have come but…" he trailed off before shrugging, "…The duties of a boyfriend, right?"

Dutchy smiled happily at his shoes as Bumlets made a grab for his hand.

* * *

"I'm hungry," Skittery complained from his position on top of Itey.

"Well we are in a car," Itey replied while he played with the other boy's hair. "We could go through a drive-thru and pick something up if you want. There's a Wendy's pretty close around here…I think."

"That's the problem with driving to random places and pulling into the first abandoned parking lot you see so you can have wild and crazy sex," Skittery said. "You never know where exactly in the hell you are. Plus, the backseat starts to get pretty uncomfortable around the third time."

"Well, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of distracting you," Itey retorted in a pseudo-offended voice. "I'm sorry if I'm not good enough for you anymore. Why don't you just go and find Bumlets, you bastard? I bet you would appreciate _him_."

"_During_ the sex is fine, babe. I swear that there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with that. It's after all the sex is over and we start to relax that I feel like my back may have quite possibly snapped in half," Skittery explained soothingly. "Your car's ceiling is way too low. Next time we go at it I'm bottom; I don't think my back bends forward enough anymore to manage topping anytime soon."

"Good, because I was going to be topping next time anyway," Itey agreed, "There's only so much my poor ass can take, you know. And that second time was pretty rough."

"Did I hurt you?" Skittery asked with concern as he pulled off Itey a little in order to look him in the eye.

Itey grinned up at him, "Are you insulting my super bottom-boy abilities? We've gone longer and rougher than that hundreds of times, I just need a break. I still have to make sure I'm fine to sit in a theater for a couple of hours after all."

"Yeah, good point," Skittery consented. "It works out great then, doesn't it? Just, you know, make sure _I'm_ okay to sit in a theater for a couple of hours, all right? …Or you can just tear into me and we can go get some Vicoden or something afterwards."

"No drugs," Itey commanded. "I want to do this all right, you know? We can't go drugged up out of our heads."

"Okay, no drugs," Skittery agreed. "But we can get food, yes? Because I really am seriously hungry."

"Well, you'll have to get off me first," Itey explained. "Other than that I don't have a problem with it."

"But you're warm and I don't want to get up and try to put on my pants," Skittery complained before dropping back onto Itey's chest.

Itey gazed at his friend lovingly. "I don't really want you to get up either," Itey easily confessed with a small smile. "God, I love you so much, you know?"

Skittery immediately tensed before pulling back slightly. "Seriously? No, of course you're not serious," he mumbled to himself as he quickly jerked himself up. "You aren't serious, are you?"

"I… Skittery…" Itey faltered, his face clearly showing panic.

"Oh no," Skittery answered with wide eyes as he roughly pulled on the first pants he saw. "No, no, no. You don't. You can't. That wasn't part of this…thing…whatever the hell it is…was… I… I thought you were over this."

"Skittery… It wasn't what it sounded like, okay?" Itey asked in a panic as he sat up. "Let's just… Can we please…? Forget I said anything, okay? I won't say it again. Please. Just…don't go."

"I'll…uh…see you later, okay…uh…dude?" Skittery asked hurriedly, already pulling on a shirt and fiddling with the car door handle.

"No! Come the fuck back here, Skitts!" Itey shouted as he began to follow him with unbuttoned pants.

"I can't deal with this kind of thing, Itey!" Skittery explained loudly while he walked away, "You _know_ I can't deal with this kind of thing. I just…need to get out of here."

Itey quietly stood in place as he watched the other boy go. After a few seconds he quietly mumbled, "Those are _my_ pants!" to himself before heading back to his car.

* * *

"I don't understand gay relationships at all," Specs complained. "So, like, what happened between you and David? And whatever happened to David liking me? And I didn't even realize you two were _interested_ in each other. So do you guys just jump from guy to guy everyday or what?"

"David and I were never going out, you dense rodent. And no gay guy would ever have a crush on you," Bumlets explained before thinking of Dutchy. "…At least no _sane_ gay guy."

" 'Dense rodent'?" What the fuck? Dutchy, why do you insist on hanging out with people who keep insulting me?" Specs asked.

"Hey, I wouldn't even be here if Dutchy hadn't kept bugging me to come," Bumlets explained with honesty. "And you're even more retarded than I thought if you think I'm just going to keep quiet while you make asshole comments about gays."

"Bumlets, calm down, alright?" Dutchy broke in before Specs could respond.

"And why the hell do you let him get away with it?" Bumlets asked Dutchy. "Do you have absolutely no gay pride or something? Fuck, I'm not even- …He doesn't annoy you…even a little bit?"

"Well…no," Dutchy answered, "I mean, I guess he… What's the problem with you two just getting along, huh? Just for a couple of minutes? Until we leave? Then on Monday you can go back to hating each other."

"He's a bigoted asshole," Bumlets complained. "How the hell am I supposed to get along with him?"

"You sure you even know what 'bigot' means?" Specs snapped.

"Bigot: a pompous asshole utterly intolerant of anyone with a differing viewpoint," Bumlets recited, "Synonyms include…dogmatist, diehard, extremist, chauvinist, sectarian, crank, doctrinaire, monomaniac, partisan, stickler-"

"It's cute that you want to prove how smart you are, but, really, you're not all that impressive," Specs interrupted smugly. "Can you name all the bones in the human body? All the elements on the Periodic Table? Can you even name all the state capitols?" he laughed. "If you can't even do that, then you really aren't that bright, are you?"

Bumlets clenched his fist and grit his teeth together, "Smart enough to finish what Davey started, you mother fucking-"

"Bumlets!" Dutchy exclaimed, standing up as soon as Bumlets did and making sure he was in front of him. "Can I see you out in the kitchen for just the tinniest little minute? Please?"

"Pretty sure I already know what you're going to say, Dutch," Bumlets brushed off easily with a false calm, "So I'm going to go with a 'no' this time. Now, get the fuck out of my way so I can beat the living shit out of Specs."

"Bumlets!" Dutchy shouted again, this time taking his friend's hands in his. "You promised you wouldn't punch him in the face, remember? So don't, okay?"

"I wasn't going to punch him in the face," Bumlets explained with a low growl, "I was going to keep kicking him in the stomach until he threw up his pancreas."

"I'm surprised you even know what a pancreas is," Specs replied with a smirk. "Know what it does? Because I'm betting you don't."

Bumlets clenched his teeth tighter and refused to answer.

"It helps get you hormonal or something," Dutchy interrupted quickly and carelessly. "Who the fuck cares. Bumlets, you can't touch Specs, okay? Please don't. Just…come to the kitchen with me, all right? Real quick. I promise."

"Fine," Bumlets finally agreed in a low voice before relaxing slightly and following Dutchy out.

"You be sure to tell me whenever you find out what a pancreas is," Specs shouted after them before quietly mumbling, "God, what a fucking cunt," under his breath.

* * *

"Hello, Mrs. Higgins," Spot greeted politely as she answered the front door. "Have the police been able to locate your car yet?"

"Hello, Sean, Come in," Mrs. Higgins greeted before stepping aside. "I'm afraid they haven't found it yet, no. Luckily a friend from Tony's (Anthony's father) work has an extra car that he's letting me borrow."

"That's great," Sean replied with believable happiness. "So is Anthony home? He told me I could come over today."

"Oh, yes, of course," Mrs. Higgins answered as if she had forgotten. "He's upstairs in his room. You just wait in the living room and I'll go get him, okay?"

"Of course," Sean agreed politely before rolling his eyes at the woman's back as she turned to walk off. He was already starting to think that he shouldn't have agreed to come for only fifty bucks. He was starting to get lenient in his old age it seemed.

His thoughts drifted back to Hunter's date that he had ordered dead this morning. Okay, so maybe he wasn't getting all that lenient. Maybe it was just with Racetrack.

But then what the hell did that mean?

"Sean," Racetrack greeted happily as he walked down the stairs ahead of his mom. "What's up?"

Spot shrugged. "Around the usual," he answered evasively.

"Yeah? Well that's always good," Racetrack answered while thinking the exact opposite.

They stood together in the living room awkwardly for a few seconds, neither one knowing exactly what to say to each other.

"So what are you boys doing today?" Mrs. Higgins cut in happily, not seeming to notice the intense awkwardness that was surrounding them.

"We…um…well, Sean wanted to see this movie," Racetrack answered. "I know I'm grounded and I probably won't be allowed to leave the house, but he insisted that I ask anyway."

Mrs. Higgins looked at her son disapprovingly before turning her gaze onto Sean.

"It would mean a lot if he could go with me," Spot put in.

"I don't mean to sound too strict, but there's not a lot of movies out right now that I think Anthony should be watching," Mrs. Higgins admitted. "What is it that you want to go see?"

"Well, it's actually a documentary that my cousin made," Spot lied smoothly, "But it's on a projector and he didn't want me to borrow it so we have to go over to his house."

"What's it about?" Mrs. Higgins asked, looking skeptical and turning to her son.

"It's about…the evils of drugs," Racetrack made up on the spot.

"Is it now?" Mrs. Higgins replied, looking like she didn't believe it for a minute.

"Sean's cousin was a drug addict and he checked himself into rehab a year ago," Racetrack tried to explain. "He made this film during his stay to try and distract himself from the withdrawals and stuff."

Spot nodded his affirmation. "He just got back a couple of weeks ago and when he heard about Racetrack's gambling addiction he wanted him to watch it," he added, "He thinks it'll help."

"Oh," Mrs. Higgins said, thrown off because she now thought they had been telling the truth all along. "Well, okay, you can go, but just this one time, okay? And I want you to come straight home after."

"Thanks Mom," Racetrack beamed before heading towards the door with Spot.

* * *

"Bumlets!" Dutchy scolded quietly as soon as they both got to the kitchen. "What the hell was that? You told me you wouldn't!"

"I told you I wouldn't punch him in the face," Bumlets corrected. "And, for the record, I never intended to. How the hell can you let him talk to you like that anyway?"

"He doesn't mean it," Dutchy answered back. "He's just confused right now."

"Because he loves you so much?" Bumlets asked sarcastically.

"Exactly," Dutchy agreed happily. "Now, will you please help me show him that he's jealous so he can fall for me and confess his undying love for me and we can live happily ever after?"

"This was a stupid idea," Bumlets grumbled before beginning to turn away.

"What? Why?" Dutchy asked, his eyes wide with panic. "Are you leaving? You can't be leaving. How can Specs get jealous without you here?"

"How the hell can Specs get jealous _with_ me here? …Seeing as he's a homophobic heterosexual who doesn't, nor ever will, have any romantic interest in you whatsoever," Bumlets replied.

"Bumlets," Dutchy whined, "Why can't you do this one thing for me? Please? Pleeeeaaaaaase?"

"Dutchy," Bumlets sighed, "What the hell is it with you and falling for people you can't have? God, I want to smack you in the head and then hug you and tell you how unfair everything is. I can't indulge this, Dutch."

"What if I liked you instead?" Dutchy asked pitifully before sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"I can't indulge that either," Bumlets answered, his kind tone offsetting his harsh words. "But I really don't think you do like me, right? So it's not really that much of a problem," he continued before sitting across from his friend.

"I just want _somebody_, you know?" Dutchy explained sadly. "I'm already a junior and the only kiss I've ever had was with Sean and he doesn't even like me. No one but a handful of people knows I'm gay and…and I'm never going to be brave enough to come out and no one's ever going to know and I'm never going to find anyone. And, god, why the hell do I have to be such a girl about it?"

Bumlets sighed again. "Look, I'm not all that good at this consoling stuff (not that it seems to deter anyone from seeking me out when they have a problem though) and it makes me pretty fucking uncomfortable, so if you really want to have this conversation let's get the fuck out of Specs' kitchen, get some beer, and maybe turn on a hockey game before I have to go into all the little details that make you special."

"I'm not looking for consolation right now, Bum; I'm looking for the truth. I want real, solid answers with reasons and…and a basis behind them. The comforting and beer and hockey can come later," Dutchy replied. "So, the truth: am I ever going to find anyone?"

"You know I don't believe in that 'there's that one person out there for you nonsense' and some people do end up alone," Bumlets answered. "The fact that you won't come out of the closet doesn't do your chances a bit of good. And, even if you do find some, the fact that you'll settle for anyone means that you'll get some loser no one else wants; he'll either be some drunk asshole who doesn't do shit or some drunk asshole that beats you. Can we go get drunk now?"

Dutchy just stared at the floor a few minutes before seemingly snapping himself out of it. "I just found out my husband's going to be an alcoholic; I think that means I _need_ to get drunk."

"I love you, you know that, right?" Bumlets asked awkwardly as they stood up. "You're, like, one of my best friends and shit and I don't want to have anything happen to you."

Dutchy smirked. "You can save all the comfort shit until you've drank a couple of beers," he offered.

Bumlets grinned back before sighing in relief. "Thank fucking god."

* * *

"Hey," Itey greeted Mush with a tight smile as he picked him up. "You know how Blink might not come? Well…Skittery might now come either."

"Why not?" Mush asked with concern emanating from every pore. "Nothing bad happened, did it?"

"We kind of had this fight…thing…not really a fight," Itey tried to explain as he pulled out of Mush's driveway, "It was more of an anti-fight, really…which then began this semi-freak out…I mean…Skittery kind of freaked out at me…but really it was my fault to begin with because I kind of broke this promise that I never actually promised and…uh…anyway…I don't think Skittery wants to be near me right at this moment…or any other moment ever again…at least for awhile."

"I…don't really understand what you just said," Mush admitted honestly. "You had a fight?"

"More like an anti-fight," Itey corrected as he calmed down from the panic his rambling had sent him.

"What's an anti-fight?"

"It's like…the exact opposite of a fight," Itey explained as if it was obvious.

"So…aren't you guys anti-fighting all the time then?" Mush asked, his confusion rising with every second.

"Well, yeah, obviously. But this was a _real_ anti-fight. This was like…as far from fighting as you could ever get and…and Skittery has a problem with anti-fighting," Itey tried to clarify.

"I'm sorry, but I'm still really confused," Mush replied, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of everything. "So…what was the anti-fight about? And what's an anti-fight, again? Actually, could you just try to explain what happened without using the word 'anti-fight'?"

"I told Skittery that I loved him," Itey explained hurriedly, "Which is a big 'no-no' with Skittery. He has this irrational and overwhelming fear of relationships and since he associates 'love' with 'relationships' it was the absolute worst thing to say. I mean, he pretty much ran off right after I let it slip. And it's not even like he thinks I don't love him and I _know_ he loves me it's just…we had this silent agreement to never mention it.

"See, awhile ago, like, last year-ish, we used to have fights about it all the time. I wanted a relationship; he wanted a fuck buddy. Finally, we realized we both didn't want to lose whatever it was that we had and we came to this type of unspoken compromise. I stopped harping about being exclusive and he started getting more touchy-feely.

"Of course, now I've fucked it all up by voicing aloud that I love him instead of just giving him an extra-thorough rim job like I normally would have done."

Mush shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't really need to hear that last part."

Itey flinched slightly. "Oh, shit, sorry. I…Skittery and I…we…we sometimes say really inappropriate things that aren't necessarily true in order to make people we don't like uncomfortable. Well…and sometimes to tease Bumlets and Dutchy. Sometimes they just slip out, you know?"

"It's okay," Mush assured him. "I'm just not all that used to being so open about it, I guess. I mean, even Racetrack and Blink don't tell me much about their boyfriends, and where else am I going to hear it, right?"

Itey smiled sadly. "I always hold Skittery when I want to tell him I love him," he told Mush honestly before laughing. "I'm holding the poor guy all the time. I don't even think he really knows what it means." Tears suddenly slid down his cheeks. "I think we broke up, Mushie."

"Maybe we shouldn't go to The Nutcracker," Mush suggested. "We can go somewhere else instead. Is there anywhere you think you might want to go? I'm up for anything."

"No, let's go to The Nutcracker," Itey replied before roughly brushing his tears away with the palm of his hand and sniffling once. "I was kind of looking forward to it. Plus," he added, giving a slight smile, "Blink might be there, right?"

* * *

"And you didn't think to plan this a little better?" Spot asked angrily after they had gone to both Mush and Blink's houses only to discover that they were gone.

"I…guess I just didn't…"

"Didn't think they'd go out without you?"

"Please," Racetrack rolled his eyes, "I'm not that self-centered. I just wanted to surprise them and I assumed that they'd be at one of each other's houses. Where else do you think they could have gone?"

Spot gave one of his infamous silent snorts. "Why the hell would I know? They aren't my friends."

"Oh, right, I forgot, the big, bad gang leader doesn't _have_ any friends," Racetrack retorted. "Oh, no, of course he doesn't. Wouldn't want to ruin his image, after all."

"Are you trying to ask me to kill you?" Spot asked with a growl as he continued driving, "Because that's what it sounded like and I don't have any problem doing it."

"I'm just pissed," Racetrack tried his best to explain, "I was looking forward to hanging out with Mush and Blink and they weren't even home. Most likely they're off together somewhere and it sucks because it's so apparent that I'm missing them more than they're missing me."

"That's why friends suck," Spot pointed out, not really sure what he should be saying, "And that's why I don't have any."

"Then you've obviously never had friends before," Racetrack said, "Or, at least, not good friends because with good friends you'll do anything for them if it'll make them happy. I'm definitely not angry at Blink and Mush for having a good time without me; I'm pissed at my mom for telling me I can never have a good time with them again."

"That's all Hallmark bullshit," Spot argued. "You can't actually believe all that shit you're spewing."

"So…definitely never any real friends, then," Racetrack told himself while making sure Spot heard him too.

"Or maybe I'm just not some pansy ass retard that cares about people too much," Spot suggested.

"Or maybe I'm not some selfish bastard who only uses people to get what he wants," Racetrack shot back.

"You're annoying as piss," Spot complained. "We're going to Brooklyn so I can pick up some cigarettes. If we don't then I'm going to be forced to kill you and then I'll have your idiotic friends annoying the hell out of me."

"Right, and then you'll have to kill them and it'll be a messy situation all around," Racetrack continued in a bored toned. "Hey, if you're buying cigarettes pick me up a pack, okay?"

Sean looked confused for a few seconds. "Huh."

"What?" Racetrack asked, looking over at him.

Spot shrugged. "Didn't know you smoked," he admitted.

"It's usually only during horse races," Racetrack explained, "But I need some way to deal with you without my head exploding, right? Cigarettes'll help."

* * *

"Tell me about the guy who fucked you," Dutchy demanded at the television before taking a sip of beer.

Bumlets shrugged, not looking over at him. "What the hell else is there to tell? And why does everyone seem so interested in it? I told you everything that happened already."

"It's just strange thinking that someone wouldn't like sex with a guy," Dutchy tried to explain. "I mean, what was it like? What does having sex with someone you aren't attracted to at all feel like? Especially since you said you were ready enough when you thought he was a girl. I mean, the whole thing just confuses me."

"It was…nice enough," Bumlets tried to explain, "I mean, I still got off and everything. It was just…uncomfortable and I got a little nauseous and I had to spend the whole time thinking about boobs."

"And he didn't notice?" Dutchy asked, "I mean…wouldn't you notice something like that?"

Bumlets shrugged. "He thought I was a virgin so he probably just thought I was nervous or something. Plus, you're not really analyzing your partner too much when you're busy fucking them."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't," Dutchy consented. "It's just a little weird. He was fine with just taking your virginity like that? Didn't he think that he should wait?"

Bumlets shrugged again, "You just don't think about things like that. I mean, we were both pretty turned on by the time I told him. He was…you know…nice enough about the whole thing."

"He was nice about it? How?"

"He uh…he took everything pretty slow," Bumlets tried to explain, "And afterwards he just sorta…held me…until I left, anyway. Can we stop talking about this now?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so," Dutchy agreed. "Why do you hate Specs so much?"

"Because he's a homophobic asshole," Bumlets answered easily. "Did that escape your notice while you were busy trying to get into his pants?"

"Hey!" Specs cried out, indignant, "I never tried to get into his pants! I tried to get him jealous so he would try to get into _my_ pants."

"Seriously, Dutch, I don't know how you can stand to put up with him. Isn't it enough that you have homophobic parents? Why the hell are you trying to surround yourself with that crap all the time?"

"He's just going through a rough time," Dutchy tried to defend Specs. "He suddenly found out that everyone thinks he's gay and having a relationship with David and he's trying to sort out all his feelings about it. If we just give him some time I'm sure he'll get better."

"Everyone thinks I'm gay, too," Bumlets pointed out. "You don't see me off prancing around, shouting out any offensive, generalizing comment about gays that pops into my head, do you?"

"But it's not like you don't deny it at every turn either," Dutchy reminded him, "I mean, you always get so irritated when anyone ever thinks you're gay or makes fun of you for it."

"Of course I do! Because I'm not gay," Bumlets tried to explain. "I want people to know I'm straight because it tends to get me laid more often. Chicks tend to sleep with men they think are straight, you know. It has nothing to do with shame or any of that other crap. Gay, straight, bi…it's all about sex anyway. I don't see why the fuck people try to overcomplicate every single thing that has to do with fucking."

Dutchy shrugged, deciding to let the subject drop. "Guess it just shows what human lives really revolve around."

* * *

"Oh…oh…oh…Oh! OH SHIIIT!" Jack shouted before launching himself off the skateboard he had been on.

Swifty laughed loudly as he went to collect the still rolling board. "You were just rolling, Jack. I'm pretty sure you got more hurt jumping off than you would have if you had put one of your feet down on the sidewalk. Seriously, you were going, like, two miles an hour. A _fat_ person could _walk_ faster than that."

"Hey! That was a downhill slope and I kept going faster," Jack tried to defend himself.

"This whole area is perfectly flat," Swifty argued, "There _are_ no downhill slopes. You just can't ride a skateboard because it doesn't have anything to do with gay sex."

"I do not excel in sports that could substitute as gay porn, okay?" Jack snapped, "I really wish you would stop saying that. There is nothing gay about basketball or football or baseball. Those are manly sports. Ask anyone and they'll say the same."

"Any sport that has guys smacking other guys on the ass is classified as gay, my friend," Swifty claimed. "And the fact that everyone shares a huge communal shower together afterwards? Yeah, that's a little gay."

"What about swimming? Swimming isn't a gay sport."

"Speedos," Swifty reminded him.

Jack sighed, "Okay, fine. So show me how to skateboard so I can add that to the list of sports that aren't gay that I can kick ass in. And if you would actually show me what I'm supposed to be doing that might help."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Swifty consented. "But I'm not all that good at skateboarding either, you know. I only used mine to get around, and that was before I got my car and started driving. Also, I didn't really have all those balance problems like you seem to."

"Yeah, I suck, I get it already," Jack brushed off as he rolled his eyes. He took a step back on the board. "So? What am I supposed to be doing to balance?"

Swifty shrugged, "Just…balance? I told you 'I never had problems balancing'. Feel it out or something, all right? I don't know."

"Thanks, Swifty, you're a big fucking help," Jack thanked sarcastically.

"Maybe you should just roll down that _huge_ hill again like last time," Swifty suggested in a mocking tone. "But be careful, that hill's trouble. It's pretty dangerous, you know."

* * *

"Hey guys, I thought you wouldn't show up," Blink greeted from the front entrance of the building as soon as he saw Mush and Itey.

"We thought the same about you," Itey replied happily. "What's up, my little Cyclops friend?"

Blink rolled his eye. "Better if people would stop calling me a Cyclops. It gets old pretty fast, you know?"

"Oh, sorry," Itey apologized, looking like he actually meant it. "It's just that I heard Skittery using it and…" He gave a tight smile. "It won't happen again."

"Where is Skittery?" Blink asked, looking around slightly. "I thought you two would be all over each other. Groping or making out or whatever else it is you guys do. Were you not able to talk him into coming?"

"More like I wasn't able to talk him into wanting to be anywhere close to me," Itey replied in self-pity.

"They had an anti-fight," Mush tried to explain.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blink tried to console, pretending like he had one ounce of an idea of what an 'anti-fight' was.

Itey tried his best to shrug it off. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go in, okay? Wouldn't want to miss The Nut…whatever."

"Nutcracker," Blink supplied. "You didn't have to come if you didn't want to, you know. You don't have to feel obligated or anything. You don't seem all that optimistic about it and if you want to go find Skittery-"

"Finding Skittery would be a bad idea," Itey told him, "He needs to be alone to settle down and ride out his panic."

Mush nodded his consent. "Let's go in and get seated before the ballet starts and we get locked out, okay?"

"Definitely," Blink agreed happily.

Mush smiled. "I'm really glad you decided to come, Blink."

Blink smiled right back. "Hey, we're friends and all that, right? Plus, I really do want to see The Nutcracker."

"I won't have to give Skittery my Sex Pistols shirt," Itey said with tears in his eyes. "Of course, I probably wouldn't have given it to him anyway; he was sure to jump me at some point. Guess that's not really a problem now, is it?"

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Mush asked in concern.

"Yeah," Itey nodded. "I'm sorry, I'm probably not very fun right now, but…I think a distraction would be the best thing. Of course, everything seems to remind me of Skitts so… I guess it's not working out all that great. If you want me to leave…"

"We're your friends," Mush reminded him, "We just want what's best for you. If you want a distraction and you think the ballet will help then we'll go. If you want to do something else to distract you-"

"No, I definitely want to see this," Itey assured him.

"Then let's go," Blink spoke up before heading towards the front entrance of the theater.

* * *

Spot and Racetrack sat smoking on the stoop of a closed concert hall.

"This was definitely not worth the fifty bucks," Racetrack complained as he exhaled his cigarette smoke.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Spot agreed before he took a hit. "I should have charged double. I would have too, if I'd've known I had to hang out with you as opposed to just picking you up and dropping you off."

"At least you're fifty bucks richer," Racetrack argued dispassionately. "I just wasted money to hang out with _you_ of all people. This was definitely not how I pictured my Saturday."

"Maybe if you planned a little better," Spot pointed out calmly. "Damn, and the day started out so well too," he added sarcastically. "I should have known something like this would happen."

"Why? What happened?" Racetrack asked more out of boredom than actual curiosity.

"Hunter (the dumb fuck that he is) brought back some bimbo to the apartment complex and I had to kill her so she wouldn't tell anyone where the entire Brooklyn gang lives," Spot explains monotonously, "Then he got all pissed off and started screaming about how I was jealous and didn't want him having a whore or something. He's such an imbecile; I should've had him killed to."

"Can you please not tell me about the people you kill? It's creepy," Racetrack replied, doing a great job of appearing not creeped out by it at all. You know, normally people don't go around shooting all their problems away."

"It's not like I _did_ kill him," Spot retorted, "I just thought about it. They're completely different things."

"Yeah, but the girl? Now her you did kill, right?" Racetrack asked rhetorically. "See? Shooting all your problems away."

"But not Hunter, ergo, not all my problems," Spot pointed out.

"Let's not talk about this anymore," Racetrack suggested, "The creepy factor's getting to me."

"Pussy."

"Better than being an inhuman killing machine."

Spot shrugged. "It gets the job done. You think I could maintain my status if I was a pussy like you? Hell no."

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't even be in the position you're in now if you weren't an inhuman killing machine to begin with. Don't try and make me feel sorry for you."

Spot snorted silently before throwing away his smoked-to-the-filter cigarette. "Like I'd want pity…especially from a pussy like you. I can do without."

Racetrack threw his own cigarette away. "What constitutes as a pussy in your mind? Because if I'm a pussy just because I think killing people's wrong then the majority of the world is a pussy with me."

"The fact that you think killing people's wrong no matter _what_ makes you a pussy," Spot defined.

"It is wrong."

Spot rolled his eyes. "You're such a kid," he grumbled.

"We're the same age."

"I grew up faster. That's what happens when you don't have a Mommy and Daddy being overprotective and watching your every step," Spot claimed. "Hand me that lighter," he ordered before taking out another cigarette from the pack that sat in between them.

"So what happened to your parents?" Racetrack asked as he handed the lighter over.

"They were pyromaniacs," Spot replied as he took the lighter and lit his cigarette, "They used to light things on fire in the backyard all the time, but one day they started lighting all these buildings around my house on fire: a post office, a McDonald's, a couple of neighbor's houses, a Target. The police finally had to shot them to make them stop. They weren't shooting to kill, but dear old Mom and Dad got shot in a house they had just lit on fire and burned up before anyone could get to them."

"You're lying, aren't you?" Racetrack asked, sounding like he already knew Sean was.

Spot smirked as he inhaled through his filter. "Obviously. My parents' death was a lot more boring. …Just as stupid though."

"Should I even ask again or are you just going to lie?"

"I'll lie until I tell the truth," Spot replied flippantly. "Think you'll know when that is?"

Racetrack sighed before giving a small smile and rolling his eyes. "Why do you always have to be so difficult? Give me that lighter back."

Spot obediently gave the lighter to him, feeling a small electric current run through his spine has Racetrack brushed his hand.

And what the fuck was that?

* * *

"So there's this man driving down the highway with a penguin in the front seat and a police officer stops them. The police officer looks at the penguin and says, 'Take that penguin to the zoo'. The man nods and drives off. The next day the same man is driving down the same highway with a penguin in the front seat. The same police officer stops him and says; 'I thought I told you to take that penguin to the zoo.' The man says, 'I did. Today we're going to the park.'"

Mush giggled appreciatively.

"It's lame," Blink said with some embarrassment, "But it's pretty much the only joke I know."

"Alright, I got one," Itey spoke up, "And it's pretty much the only joke I know that isn't dirty, so you better appreciate it. Okay, so, there were two cupcakes in the oven. One cupcake turns to the other and says, 'Damn, it's hot in here.' The other cupcake turns to the first one and shouts, 'Holy shit, a talking cupcake!'"

Mush chuckled again.

"Lame," Skittery interrupted from behind them.

Mush and Itey turned around in their seats, surprise clearly written all over their faces.

"I…I thought you weren't going to came," Itey admitted.

Skittery shrugged before jumping over the row of seats in order to be in the same row as the others. "I was invited, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, of course," Mush assured him.

"Great, let's get these nuts crackin' then," Skittery replied, taking the seat on the end next to Blink instead of taking the empty seat next to Itey. "

"How'd you get in?" Blink asked, "I thought they already shut the doors."

Skittery smirked, "I flirted with the doorman; he's a total closet fag. He even slipped me his number, the poor loser."

"Wow," Mush muttered in disbelief, turning around in the hopes of seeing the doorman in question.

"Don't lie," Itey scolded. "How much money did you give him?"

"Twenty bucks," Skittery answered, not sounding at all ashamed to be caught lying. "I also slipped him _my_ number. Do you think he'll call? He was kind of cute in that tough, bouncer type way."

"He was like fifty," Blink pointed out in a disgusted voice. "He was balding."

"Don't judge me," Skittery snapped, acting offended. "So I want a sugar daddy. What? Is that illegal now?"

"Just a bit, yeah," Blink replied, rolling his eye.

"Why must America stomp all over my dreams of being someone's trophy wife one day?" Skittery asked in mock frustration. "I can't even get married until I get a sex change operation because of all those stupid gay marriage laws."

"You could always just be some woman's trophy husband," Mush helpfully reminded him.

"Yeah, like a woman would ever get successful enough to be able to afford me," Skittery scoffed. "Maybe if she pulled an Anna Nicole Smith and then married me, but I'd never be able to get it on with a chick that probably sucked some eighty year old guy's dick."

"You're so much of an asshole I can't even…I don't even know," Blink replied in disgust right before the curtain started to go up.

* * *

I do like Specs, you know," Dutchy announced after a long reign of silence. "I know he's not the most…I mean, I know he's kind of offensive and everything, but so are Skittery and Itey, right? You seem to like them just fine."

"I've just gotten used to their unique brand of asshole-ish-ness," Bumlets tried to explain. "You just seem to be attracted to that type of person though. It makes you kind of demented."

"I'm not demented," Dutchy argued. "A little masochistic, sure, but not demented. But really I just like people who speak their mind."

"And someone who's nice couldn't possible do that," Bumlets said with sarcasm.

"I always get the feeling nice people are being nice to compensate for something. It's like they're plotting against me or they're constantly talking about me behind my back," Dutchy tried to explain.

"So not only are you demented, you're paranoid too," Bumlets claimed. "That's nice. Those are always good points to look for in a person."

"Yeah, okay, I can accept paranoid, but I told you, 'I'm not demented, just masochistic.' And…I don't know. I guess I am pretty fucked up. You really think I'll end up alone?"

"Paranoid, masochistic, demented, and dependent," Bumlets muttered loud enough to make sure Dutchy heard him. "The list just keeps on going up, doesn't it? Maybe you should enroll in some therapy."

"You're avoiding the question," Dutchy pointed out.

"Yeah, purposefully, might I add. I thought we were done talking about all this crap. You want to hear about the guy I slept with instead?" Bumlets asked, letting his distaste for Dutchy's question be known.

"Maybe later. Right now, I want to know if you really think I'll end up alone," Dutchy replied stubbornly. "Seriously, Bumlets, it's important to me."

"It doesn't matter what I think," Bumlets tried to tell him, "No matter what I say the ultimate outcome's going to be whatever it's going to be. Everything's up to you, man, you do know that, right?"

"Still avoiding the question," Dutchy told him.

Bumlets sighed. "I already told you, Dutch. I think that if things stay the way they are you're either going to end up alone or you're going to be with someone who treats you like shit and you'll be incredibly unhappy."

"But that's just your opinion?" Dutchy replied, sounding monotonous.

"And it doesn't really mean a hell of a lot," Bumlets finished for him. "Now can we stop talking about this?"

"I just want a sure thing, you know?" Dutchy continued, ignoring Bumlets' plea to drop the subject. "And it's like it could be anyone…I just want someone. Does that make me really desperate?"

"I think that's the definition of desperate," Bumelts answered. "Are you sure you really want to talk to me about this? I'm not the best at trying to cheer people up. Why don't you talk to David?"

"You think David might want to go out with me?" Dutchy asked excitedly.

"You aren't going out with David, Dutch. Are we clear? No crushing on David," Bumlets said with seriousness.

"Right, because David's yours, right?"

Bumlets practically growled, "I'm not gay. Why does everyone have such a problem accepting that? The reason you can't go out with David is because he couldn't handle you."

"What do you mean he couldn't handle me? Are you calling me difficult?"

"Of course you're difficult. You're being difficult right now. David's going to let you walk all over him and he _really_ doesn't need that right now."

"Well, it's really comforting knowing which one of us you like more."

"You think I like David more just because I won't let you go out with him? I won't let you go out with him because I know it'll only end in complete and utter failure."

"Oh, because everything I do always does, right? Well thank you very much for all your confidence in me," Dutchy shouted.

"Yes, you know what? That's exactly it. And you know why everything you do ends in complete failure? Because you don't even know what the fuck you want! You want a relationship but you don't care with whom. And why do you even want a relationship? Just so you can say you have one?"

"I…I want to be kissed and touched and…and I just want to be caught up to Itey and Skittery and…and even you! When you all talk about sex I want to know how it feels! I always feel like I'm such stupid child compared to you guys!"

"Fine! You want sex? Let's go then," Bumlets offered. "Anyone will do, right? And if it'll stop you from whining-"

"Seriously? You…you want to have sex…just like that?"

"Yes or no? Because this is a one time offer."

"Yes. Definitely yes. I just…uh…so we just…go at it?" Dutchy asked with uncertainty.

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "God, you know how to ruin the mood, don't you?" he asked before throwing his shirt off.

* * *

"I liked it," Skittery declared, "It was trippy."

"Trippy?" Blink asked in disbelief. "Like a drug trip? _That's_ what a drug trip feels like?"

"Well, not perfectly, no," Iey broke in, "But it was just as confusing as tripping."

"What didn't you understand?" Mush asked. "We can explain it to you if you want."

"It's no big deal," Itey shrugged. "It's over anyway, right?"

"No," Blink answered as if it were obvious. "This is just intermission. The ballet's only halfway done."

"Oh. Yeah, I totally knew that," Itey spoke up. "Who wouldn't?"

"Me," Skittery whispered to his friend. "This is taking a long ass time. I thought it'd only last two hours at the most."

"I know," Itey whispered right back, "What do you think our chances are of successfully sneaking out?"

"Pretty good if we wait until it starts again; Mush and Blink seemed to be getting intensely into it. We could leave right after it starts up again and come back right before it ends," Skittery proposed.

"Check out my man with all his planning abilities," Itey complimented proudly before sending Skittery a flirtatious smile.

Skittery tensed right away. "But I kind of want to see the rest of it, so you can…you know…do all that on your own," he suggested before taking a couple of steps away from Itey.

Itey looked thrown for a minute before getting his poise back. "So…Mush…you want to explain this whole thing to me?" he asked, turning away from Skittery and focusing on Blink and Mush.

"Okay, so it's Christmas Eve and Clara's godfather comes to visit," Mush began enthusiastically.

* * *

"Trouble comes this way," Swifty announced before making an inconspicuous motion towards a group of boys.

"Masson," Jack said as soon as he saw him. "So what do we do?"

Swifty shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me; I'm not the one that has to deal with him on Monday (thank god)."

"Fine. Let's just get out of here, all right? I don't feel too much like dealing with him myself."

"Yeah? And how's that going to happen? The whole park is fenced in except for the front entrance and Masson is currently standing right in the way with all of his friends," Swifty pointed out.

"Okay, okay, we can work around that," Jack proposed in a placating manner. "It's simple, really. We'll just wait until they walk away from the entrance and then we'll sneak past them. It's as easy as eating pie."

"Jack?" Masson asked from in the middle of his group of friends. "What the hell are you doing here with Swifty? I thought he was too cool to hang out with us anymore."

"And what'll happen if he finds us _before_ he stops blocking our exit?" Swifty asked sarcastically.

"Well, clearly we should have _hid_," Jack answered quietly. "And why am I the one that always has to come up with plans? Does it not occur to you to try and help every once in awhile?"

"Help? First, Masson isn't my problem anymore," Swifty pointed out, following Jack's lead and speaking softly, "Second, I give helpful solutions to problems everyday so don't even pretend like I don't."

"What helpful solutions?" Jack whispered back. "I dare you to name one you've had in the last week. I bet you fifty bucks you can't name one in the next ten minutes."

"Done," Swifty agreed. "What about last Monday when I helped you find your notebook by proposing you retrace your steps?"

"That wasn't a plan."

"Then what was it? The plan was to retrace your steps, you did, and you found your notebook."

"It wasn't a plan."

"What was it if it wasn't a plan?"

"Jack! Are you ignoring me, you fucker?" Masson's voice interrupted them.

Jack and Swifty both looked up from their argument to see Masson and his group of friends walking towards them.

"What? You decided you were too good for us too?" Masson continued, still walking towards them.

Jack grinned at him. "Nah, man, it's nothing like that. I just met Swift here, is all. We were just talking."

"Is that a fact? Why's the dork got two skateboards under each arm then? You sure one of 'em ain't for you?" Masson asked, a Delancy brother on each side of him busy looking disapproving.

"Maybe he just had someone he was supposed to meet here and they never showed up," Jack suggesting before shrugging. "I don't really know; we weren't talking all that long."

"Then let's get the fuck out of here," Masson replied, jerking his head towards the entrance. "It's boring around here during the day anyway. We were just here to scope it out before the party tonight. You're coming, ain't cha?"

"Count me there," Jack assured him before heading over to the exit. "So where is it we're going to kill some time before we can get wasted?"

"We were thinking about heading back to my house to play basketball on that court we just got built in the basement," Masson answered. "Ya willing to give it a try?"

"More than I'm willing to try out your mom," Jack answered back with a smirk. "So what are we waiting for? Let's get the hell out of here."

Swifty watched them leave before quietly heading out himself. "Yeah, what a great plan, Jackie-boy. Leave me here waiting for some imaginary person like a dork. Sure saves yourself from the embarrassment of standing up to Masson though, don't it?" he muttered to himself as he walked home.

* * *

"I'm going to rehab on Sunday," Racetrack stated with displeasure, disrupting the silence that had been maintained since slipping into Spot's (most likely stolen) car in order to drop Race back at home.

"I know," Spot replied while keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm the one that set it all up, remember?"

"And yet you still don't feel like you need to apologize to me for persuading my mother to take me to some stupid rehab center," Racetrack pointed out with a little bit of malice.

"Stop whining about it," Spot ordered. "I got everything set up for you; you should be showing some gratitude."

"Gratitude? You're the reason I have to go to rehab once a week from now on until forever," Racetrack argued. "Who the hell would be grateful for that?"

"You'll like it, a'right? There's nothing to worry about," Spot harshly assured him. "I don't see why you're so fucking against rehab to begin with. You do realize you _are_ addicted to gambling, right?"

"I like it," Racetrack tried to explain, "When I'm done liking it I'll quit. Just because some people have a problem controlling their addictions doesn't me _I_ do."

Spot just rolled his eyes in response. "Am I going the right way? These fucking houses all look the same."

"They do not," Racetrack easily brushed off. "Turn left here."

"I hope you know that this was just a one time thing. I'm not driving you around and having a fucking friendship session with you every weekend," Spot announced.

"Believe me, I don't think I could last another minute with you," Racetrack assured him. "And don't you go acting like I dragged you into this because you clearly said that the fifty dollars was enough."

"That was before I discovered that I had to hang out with you all day," Spot reminded him. "I've got better things to do than keep a faggot like you entertained," he muttered loud enough so Racetrack could hear him.

"You did not just call me a faggot."

"Pretty sure I did, actually," Spot answered dispassionately. "Turn here?"

"No, it's the next street," Racetrack answered. "I can't believe you just called me a faggot. Usually I would get pissed, but since you're kind of a faggot too I just don't know what to do."

"I can't believe you just called me a faggot," Spot said, looking a bit taken aback.

"Pretty sure I did," Racetrack answered smugly.

Spot smirked "You should be glad I haven't planned to kill you yet, because god _damn_ would I torture you before I actually got it done."

"I thought I made you agree that you wouldn't talk about how you kill people," Racetrack replied.

"I don't remember agreeing to anything," Spot answered. "This the house?"

"Yeah. You want to come in?"

"And talk to your mother again? No thanks. Get the hell out of my car."

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll see you on Monday."

* * *

"Popcorn's clearly the best."

"No way. It's ice cream all the way."

"Hell no. They don't even sell ice cream in theaters."

"But what other treat do you scream for? Ice cream is the clear winner."

Blink rolled his good eye. "Would you two stop arguing about what the best food to eat while watching a movie is? It's getting annoying. Plus, the clear winner is Reese's Pieces anyway, which makes you both wrong."

"I like Reese's Pieces," Mush said with a nod.

"Two against one against one. Are you serious? We _both_ lost?" Skittery asked. "God damn. Something like that shouldn't happen."

"We totally could have kicked ass if they hadn't've teamed up on us," Itey reasoned. "So am I giving you a ride home?" he asked Skittery as casually as he could.

"Nope, I'm taken care of," Skittery assured him, throwing an arm around Blink. "My little- …gay pal's giving me a ride."

"You were just about to call me your 'little Cyclops'," Blink accused, not sounding all that mad.

"Wrong! I was going to call you my little one eyed, one horned, flying purple people-eater," Skittery claimed happily, "But then I realized I should save it for a really splendid time because who the hell would be awesome enough to come up with a nickname like that?"

"Quite a few people actually," Blink told him as he walked them both to his car.

"Guys, we parked over here," Itey interrupted, jerking his head in the opposite direction. He was looking kind of lost as he looked at Skittery.

"Oh, yeah, okay," Skittery replied. "See ya on Monday then."

"Bye, Mushie," Blink said with a lot more friendliness than Skittery.

"Bye Blink. Bye Skittery," Mush answered.

"Yeah, bye," Itey brushed off, looking completely bothered.

"Bye Mush!" Skittery called out from around his shoulder when he realized he should probably give him a formal good bye.

Itey flinched a little.

* * *

Bumlets tried to take deep, calming breaths as Dutchy held him.

Why was he the one always getting held?

Not that that was the point of this entire mental freak out.

The big problem being why the hell he had decided having sex with Dutchy was a good idea.

Sure, he was drunk, but certainly not _that_ drunk. At least, he certainly didn't think he was that drunk. And he did have some excess energy from getting wound up to fight Specs and then never actually doing it, but that didn't mean he had to burn it off by having sex with one of his best friends.

The bigger problem was the fact that he kind of enjoyed it.

Sure, the two dicks thing still kind of threw him off, but topping was definitely better than bottoming. Better than fucking a girl? No, but it definitely wasn't the most uncomfortable experience of his life.

The biggest problem came with the realization that Dutchy probably thought this meant something. Even the thought made him feel like an asshole, but whatever had made Bumlets feel like fucking Dutchy it wasn't Dutchy. Bumlets didn't think about him like that…not even now. And how was he supposed to explain to Dutchy that his first time (that was supposed to be special and shit) was just a casual fuck for Bumlets.

Fuck, it wasn't good.

And what the hell should he do now? Leave? Wait until morning when Dutchy woke up and then explain it all to him?

Could they ever really be friends again after this?

* * *

A/N: Intense right?

I'm probably going to go over my already-posted chapters for mistakes before I start on chapter 16 so if you've noticed any inconsistencies or spelling errors or just don't like how something is written please let me know in a review...or pm me...or, hell, e-mail me (at hotmail screen name apathyinstereo). There are already somethings people have (helpfully) brought to my attention but if you think of something...yeah...let me know.

And, hey, check this out...this story? Over 100,000 words now. Dances like a spaz Please, join me in celebration!

Please review. You know you want to.

Until Next Time,  
Please Don't Hold Back

* * *


	16. Spot to the Rescue

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Summary of Chapter 15:  
-Spot and Hunter get into a fight because Spot kills Hunter's date  
-Bumlets agrees to be Dutchy's fake boyfriend in order to get Specs jealous  
-Itey accidentally tells Skittery that he loves him and Skittery runs off  
-Spot and Racetrack hang out  
-Swifty tries to teach Jack how to skateboard  
-Blink, Mush, Itey, and Skittery all watch The Nutcracker together  
-Bumlets and Dutchy sleep together  
-Jack ditches Swifty to hang out with Masson

Getting Back Together Again

**XVI  
Spot to the Rescue  
**

"Yo, Bossman," Slinghot said quietly as he tried to wake Spot.

"What?" Spot growled out before sitting up in his bed.

"Stealth's creeping people out by staring at them," Slingshot answered as he tossed Spot some pants and a shirt, "And Bam keeps screaming about his hair and how he doesn't look like a girl. Hunter just got done watching Spiderman cartoons and now thinks he can walk on walls. Speed's trying to get Gadget to drive the jeep even though Gadget is terrified of being behind a _golf cart_. And I'm really hungry but there's no food."

Spot gave a silent snort before throwing the clothing Slingshot gave him onto the floor. "So a regular Sunday morning then. What? Are you expecting me to do something about it?"

"And get the whole I'm-not-everyone's-parent speech again?" Slingshot asked. "No thank you. This was more of my version of trying to hide from all the chaos." After a moment's pause he continued. "So? If I can't make you get up then shove over. I need more sleep."

Spot didn't move. "Did you forget the rules? You aren't allowed in this bed unless I'm fucking you. Remember? Now get the hell out of here and let me sleep in peace."

"Okay, what if we fuck and _then_ I sleep in the bed?" Slingshot pleaded. "Hunter woke up way too early so he could try and play a prank on Stealth. …It didn't work…obviously. Stealth was up and waiting for him. It would have been fine, but then Hunter couldn't go back to sleep and he got bored so he decided it'd be a brilliant idea to wake _me_ up."

"I don't feel like fucking you," Spot answered, seemingly ignoring his friend's rant, "But even if I did you wouldn't sleep in my bed afterwards because you get all clingy."

"I do not get clingy!" Slingshot argued. "You say that every time! What the hell do I do that's so clingy?"

"We always end up spooning," Spot pointed out, "And I'm always the fucking little spoon. I'd call that being clingy."

"Okay, fine, so next time after sex, you can be the big spoon, okay?"

"I don't want to be the big spoon," Spot snapped, "I don't want to do it at all."

"What's the problem with spooning?"

"It's gay."

"You _are_ gay!"

"That doesn't mean I have to _act_ like it."

"Private moment, I know," Bam interrupted, walking into Spot's room but making sure to keep the door open behind him. "And I tried waiting but this kind of has some importance to it."

"Okay, you've slept in the same bed as me," Slingshot announced, appearing to not have heard a word Bam said. "Am I clingy?"

"Hell yeah," Bam answered, "You always insist on spooning and every damn time I'm the fucking little spoon."

"Told you," Spot said smugly to Slingshot before turning to Bam, "So what'd you do?"

"I may or may not've…punched a kid out for calling me pretty?" Bam reluctantly admitted, phrasing his statement as a question. "And he may or may not be busy bleeding in his room while unconscious."

"God damn. …Again?" Spot cursed before getting out of bed. "Sling, go get someone to treat the kid."

"Well, you think they'd stop calling me pretty after awhile," Bam said, trying to convince Spot it wasn't his fault as he followed behind. "So, really, it's just their own fault for being stupid."

"You think maybe they always tell you you're pretty because you _are_ pretty," Spot mused. "God, I'm pretty sure the kid who you knocked out last week actually meant it as a _come on_."

"I'm not-! You think he meant it as a come on? Which one last week? Not the cute one?" Bam asked, suddenly curious.

"If by 'cute one' you're talking about the skinny guy with blonde hair, then yes, the 'cute one'," Spot answered.

"Like…dirty blonde hair? Because the cute one I'm remembering had dirty blonde hair."

"Dirty blonde? Yeah, that was him."

"Fuck, he was coming on to me? Shit, he was so cute. I remember thinking about how much I wanted to hug him when I was keeping watch over him after I knocked him out. I can't believe I didn't know he was trying to flirt with me," Bam muttered to himself loud enough so that Spot could hear him.

"He wasn't exactly good at it," Spot shrugged off. "Apparently he hit on me too. Stealth's the one that told me."

"That guy notices _everything_," Bam marveled. "But he doesn't talk. How the fuck do you get him to actually tell you shit? Does he just write it down for you or something?"

"He talks to me," Spot assured him. "Maybe if you shut up every once in awhile and gave him the chance he'd talk to you too."

"You think he'd start telling me which boys check me out?" Bam asked.

Spot shrugged. "If you have enough patience he'll probably tell you anything you want."

* * *

Bumlets swallowed loudly before sitting up and lightly nudging Dutchy. "Yo, Dutch," his voice cracked slightly, making him clear his throat. "You need to get up so we can talk about shit."

Dutchy smiled sleepily. "What's to talk about? Everything's so perfect right now. It's all like…super perfect. Sex with you is better than drugs."

"See, that's kind of the whole thing," Bumlets replied reluctantly, "Things aren't so perfect right now."

"Feels perfect enough," Dutchy pointed out.

"Well…as much…Jesus… It's not perfect, okay? So get up so I can tell you why," Bumlets ordered.

"Why the hell would I wake up and help you ruin my absolutely perfect mood?" Dutchy asked. "Sorry, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be listening."

"This is difficult enough without you…"

"Why are you trying so hard to ruin my awesome mood?" Dutchy asked, finally opening his eyes. "You're not being a very good friend right now."

Bumets flinched.

"Oh my god, what did you do?" Dutchy asked in panic as his eyes widened. "Tell me. Right now. What the fuck did you do?"

"I'm not going to be your boyfriend, Dutch," Bumlets forced out.

Dutchy looked at him curiously, his panic dropping. "Well…duh. But I still want you to be my _fake_ boyfriend. I mean, I deserve that much, right? You did take my virginity, after all."

Bumlets glared disbelievingly at his friend. "You did _not_ agree to sex with me just so you could guilt trip me into becoming your fake boyfriend, you manipulative little _ass_ fuck."

"Chill," Dutchy smiled, "It was just a passing thought. The thought only did a minor appearance between 'god, I'm actually going to have sex' and 'holy fuck, I never realized that Bumlets was so ripped'."

Bumlets looked pleased. "You think I'm ripped?"

"It took me by surprise too," Dutchy answered.

Bumlets looked placated for a moment before getting confused. "What the hell happened to 'sex is supposed to be beautiful'? Didn't you say that, like, two days ago?"

Dutchy shrugged. "I guess I just thought about what Skittery said. You know, the whole 'sex is sex' thing. And I just realized I really wanted sex. It was fucking amazing, by the way. I mean, painful, hell yes, but excellent, nonetheless. I'm definitely gay. Which leads us to the question 'what the hell are _you_?'"

Bumlets shook his head. "I like sex with girls. I mean, I like sex with girls more than sex with guys, but…last night…it was…good."

"_Just_ good?" Dutchy asked, looking crushed.

Bumlets smiled, "Glad to see you're the same old Dutchy; you're as insecure as ever. It was…better than good…awesome. It was…damn…it was comfortable. I mean, at first it was a little weird, right? But after a while I just fell into it and I didn't have to think about girls or boobs, I just…had to think about sex."

"So? That makes you what? Bisexual?"

"Maybe? Hell, I don't know. I still don't like dick," Bumlets replied.

"So what? You're like a flexible straight man?"

"Jesus, I don't know. I was up all night worrying about how to tell you this was just casual sex; I kind of left my sexual orientation crisis for later," Bumlets confessed.

Dutchy sighed. "This conversation has completely ruined the morning after for me. I hope you're willing to make it up to me."

"By being your fake boyfriend?"

"By being my fake boyfriend that everyone _knows_ about," Dutchy corrected. "And maybe with some more sex."

"Dutch, come on, you know fuck buddies don't work. It always gets way too complicated," Bumlets pointed out.

"Usually, yeah, okay, but look at Skittery and Itey, right? They're…okay, I don't know what they are, but they're kind of like fuck buddies and they've been working out fine. Plus, I don't have any romantic feelings for you what-so-ever, so it won't be a problem," Dutchy replied confidently.

"It would be nice to not have to try so hard for sex," Bumlets muttered.

Dutchy's eyes lit up. "Great. And you'll be my fake boyfriend?"

"Up until your plan utterly fails or you find someone else to crush on," Bumlets pledged reluctantly.

"Awesome, so it's all decided," Dutchy declared. "Now, fuck me."

Bumlets forced a grin. He knew this whole thing was a bad idea that would probably fuck them both over, but at the moment he found he really didn't care very much.

* * *

Racetrack sulked down the steps in the hopes of prolonging his trip to rehab as much as he could.

"Hurry up," Mrs. Higgins chided, "We're going to be late and I want to meet your group counselor before everything starts."

Racetrack sighed. "I don't see why I have to do this, Mom. I'm not a gambling addict."

"You're pants are on fire," Mrs. Higgins replied before taking on a more motherly tone. "I know it's a hard thing to admit to, Anthony, but that's the first step. I care about you, honey. You know that, right? I don't want this to become a bigger problem for you in the future. You'll thank me for it later."

Racetrack immediately felt the guilt that only a mother could bring. "I know, Mom," he replied.

"Well? Let's go then," Mrs. Higgins ordered. "If you spend any more time sulking you're going to make us late."

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "I'm not sulking," he denied even though he knew he kind of was. "And we have plenty of time."

"Not if I want to talk to your group counselor," Mrs. Higgins told her son, "We've gone over this already, Anthony. We need to be there early so I have enough time to make sure everything is okay. And, on top of that, your counselor wants you there early so he can talk to you one-on-one for a few minutes. In other words, no we do not have enough time."

Racetrack sighed, slowly heading to the front door. "Okay, let's go then."

"Do I need to pick you up and carry you?" Mrs. Higgins threatened. "Get a move on, buster. We're late as it is."

"I'm coming," Racetrack replied, picking up his pace a little. "How long does it take to get there?"

"Too long," Mrs. Higgins answered, holding the front door open for her son.

"Can I drive there?"

"Maybe if you had your car."

"It wasn't my fault," Racetrack claimed as he obediently climbed into the passenger seat.

"If you were a little more responsible-" Mrs. Higgins started to lecture as she started the car.

"You got _your_ car _stolen_!" Racetrack interrupted.

"That wasn't my fault."

"And it's not my fault that someone decided that it might be fun to use my car as a piñata!"

"No one just _decides_ to smash a car," Mrs. Higgins claimed, "You mush have said something to someone and they got upset and decided to take it out on your car. Frankly, I'm not too surprised. All the other teachers constantly complain to me about your smart mouth…"

Racetrack rolled his eyes again, knowing that he wouldn't get anywhere in trying to convince his mom that his car's current state wasn't his fault.

"You could stand to be more polite, is all I'm saying," Mrs. Higgins dragged on. "No one appreciates back talk."

"Yes, Mom," Racetrack reluctantly agreed when it become apparent that he was expected to.

"I'm just glad you have a good friend like Sean," Mrs. Higgins continued, nodding appreciatively. "I wonder if he would mind me meeting his parents."

Racetrack shrugged, trying to avoid being asked any questions about Spot's nonexistent parents.

A few minutes past before the inevitable happened. "Have you met Sean's parents yet?"

"No," Racetrack answered. "Can I turn on the radio?"

Mrs. Higgins frowned slightly. "You don't listen to the radio while _you're_ the one driving, do you?"

"No."

"Because it's a great distraction, Anthony, and I don't want you doing it. You kids always get so caught up in your music and you never seem to think about road safety while it's playing-"

"I don't listen to music while I drive, Mom," Racetrack assured her with a tone that clearly stated how annoyed he was.

"You know I just worry about you," Mrs. Higgins said in a pacifying manner.

"I know," Racetrack grumbled.

"I just want you to be safe."

"I know."

"And when this little stage of rebellion is over-"

"It's not a little stage of _rebellion_, Mom!" Racetrack snapped. "This is me! …Trying to get out from under the huge rock you've put me under since I was born, except you won't let me do that because you're too interested in the little kid who used to do whatever you told him to do."

"Anthony, that's enough!" Mrs. Higgins replied, turning into the rehabilitation center's parking lot. "Come on, let's go," she ordered stiffly as she opened her own car door.

* * *

"Hey, Mom and Dad left early," Sarah stated as soon as she saw her brother. "They told me to tell you that they expect you to have vacuumed before they get home."

"That's always been your job on Sundays," David pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm not the one that punched my best friend in the face a couple of days ago, was I?" Sarah asked him smugly. "I have to admit, I kind of like being the good kid for once. Did you know Mom and Dad spent all of last night trying to figure out why their 'sweet, responsible boy' would resort to punching someone?"

David sighed. "Thanks for the guilt trip, Sarah, but it wasn't really necessary," he replied.

"Okay, big-sister-time, then, is it?" Sarah asked when she saw how miserable her baby brother looked. "So, let's go. Sit down on the couch and tell me about all of your problems."

David sat, not really questioning why Sarah was being so nice to him even though they hadn't really talked for years. "It's complicated."

"So explain it. I've got the time. I'm supposed to be watching you to make sure you don't do anything bad so it's either this or homework," Sarah explained nonchalantly.

"I don't know where to start."

"You can start with the _real_ reason you punched Specs," Sarah suggested. She continued when David gave her a look of disbelief. "I'm not dense, David. You seem to have forgotten we attend the same school and I _do_ hear things about you every now and then. So what happened? Did Specs cheat on you or something? Because if he did you did the right thing by punching him."

David looked confused for a minute before realization dawned on him. "You…you think Specs and I were actually going out?"

"You weren't?"

"No! I can't believe you… Why would I go out with Specs, of all people? He's my best friend; it would just completely complicate things."

"Oh, glad I didn't tell Mom and Dad then," Sarah admitted. "Because that would have been _awkward_. …And I probably would have gotten in trouble for listening to gossip."

"You were going to tell Mom and Dad?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Only when I got in big trouble and needed them to focus their anger on someone else," she told him, acting as if that was the thing she was expected to do. "Except the next time I got in trouble it was over failing some big test and it didn't seem appropriate to tell them then. After that I didn't get in trouble for awhile and it kind of just slipped my mind. But let's get back to the point. Why'd you punch Specs?"

"It's complicated," David repeated. "And I'm not all that sure I should tell you because you might decide to tell Mom and Dad the next time you get in trouble."

"Oh, so it's juicy then? Bring it on," Sarah challenged, looking a lot more interested now.

"You're planning to tell everyone at school, aren't you?"

"No! You're my kid brother; you wouldn't do that to you," Sarah promised. "Whatever you tell me will never leave this couch, okay? And I promise to never bring anything you tell me up ever again. Sound good? Now spill."

"I…I really don't want to tell you. Can't you just leave it alone?"

Sarah sighed. "You don't punch people, David. Even though I don't ever talk to you that is something that I can say with complete confidence. The fact that you punched your best friend means that something is very wrong and I'm concerned."

"I'm… No, wait, not I good place to start probably," David mumbled to himself, "I was just… That's not a good explanation. Specs is… Bumlets… I really can't explain. It's no big deal, okay?"

"It _is_ a big deal and I'm going to keep nagging you until I know what's going on," Sarah declared. "Alright, so start at Bumlets. When did you start hanging out with him again? You're not taking drugs are you?"

"Of course I'm not taking drugs!" David snapped. "Bumlets is in my Calculus class. He's trying to get me to stand up for myself more."

"He's trying to get you to stand up for yourself more by… What? Encouraging you to punch kids in the face?" Sarah asked in confusion. "Okay, I like Bumlets, really, I do. We used to hang out together all the time back in middle school. But it seems to me like he's a bad influence on you. And don't even get me started on Skittery and Itey."

"This is why I didn't want to start with Bumlets," David confessed. "You wouldn't understand until I told you about what an asshole Specs has been lately and you wouldn't understand _that_ until I told you that Specs found out about that rumor about him and I dating and freaked out and then I told him I was gay and accidentally hit on him and I talked to Bumlets about it and he really helped so now he's my friend and so are Skitts and Itey because they've been pretty nice about everything."

"Alright, you were right. I didn't understand that at all," Sarah admitted. "Give me a minute to convert the David-babble into proper English. So…you were never going out with Specs but you _are_ gay. I'm going to completely ignore the part about you accidentally hitting on him because I don't understand how that could happen and I don't want too. Okay, so you told Specs you were gay and he freaked out. …How does Bumelts fit into this?"

"He talked me through my freaking out about _Specs'_ freak out," David replied. "I sat with him, and Skittery, and Itey, and Dutchy, and Specs at lunch."

"Why was Specs at the druggie table. Mm…no what? Never mind. It's not essential and frankly I don't care about that much," Sarah said. "I think I got the basics anyway. Specs was disrespecting you and you punched him in order to stand up for your beliefs. I can stand behind that. You know, your life's a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for."

"Uh…thanks…I think," David replied.

"Oh, but if Skittery and Itey ever come back here again I'm shaving off your eyebrows while you sleep," Sarah warned. "Bumlets can still come over though. And I guess Dutchy, even though he's a little on the weird side. Now, get the hell out of here so I can vacuum."

"I thought I was supposed to vacuum," David pointed out in confusion.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I only said that so _I_ wouldn't have to. Duh. But, for today only, I decided to be a good sister and not take advantage of your extreme gullibility so get lost and go appreciate it."

"Thanks…again…I think."

* * *

"Okay," Hunter announced loudly while rolling up his sleeves. "Watch and be amazed! I'm going to taking a running start, using the couch as a couple of stairs. Then I'll leap off the top of the couch, using my momentum to climb the wall a few steps. When that happens I will have officially and successfully walked on a wall just like Spiderman."

"How do you know if you've done it?" someone in the watching crowd asked.

"I'll touch the ceiling with my foot, okay?" Hunter offered. "And if I succeed each of you chumps have to give me twenty bucks. Agreed?"

"Where's Spot?" Speed asked as soon as he walked into the room with a trembling Gadget hanging off him. "Gadget crashed a car even though he promised he wouldn't drive one ever again."

"You told me I'd be okay!" Gadget reminded Speed, still clinging to the other boy's shoulder.

"Yeah, I also told you not to crash," Speed pointed out. "You did crash, meaning you didn't follow my rules, meaning all promises are dropped."

"Shut up and watch my amazing stunt!" Hunter ordered before he started to run at the couch. He took the two steps needed to get on top of the couch, took a flying leap feet first towards the wall, and landed smack on his back before his feet even managed to touch the wall.

"That's farther than you usually get," Speed congratulated dispassionately. "Someone want to tell me where Spot is now?"

"Taking care of a kid Bam knocked out," Hunter mumbled from the floor. "Can you please call someone to look at me? I think I broke something."

Speed rolled his eyes. "You're fine, man. 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger' and all that rot. Stop being a baby," he ordered before pulling Gadget along with him to continue their search for Spot.

"Hey! Creepy McCreeperston!" Speed called as soon as he stepped onto the stairs and saw Stealth. "You have any idea where Spot is?"

Stealth just stared as Gadget tried to take a few steps behind Speed.

"You don't have to actually _say_ anything," Speed tried to persuade him. "You just have to point or…nod your head in the right direction or something."

Stealth continued with his staring.

"Okay, fine, you don't know where he is then," Speed assumed before continuing on.

"He's with Bam," Stealth finally answered, "They were talking about me." Unfortunately Speed was already too far away to hear him.

* * *

Racetrack followed his mother into the rehab center with great reluctance. He really didn't want to be here, but he had learned long ago that he had to pick fights with his mother and this was one that he knew he wasn't going to be able to win.

Immediately upon entering the building they were greeted by a man that looked to be in his late twenties.

"You must be Anthony," the man claimed with too much excitement. "And you're the boy's mother, the wonderful woman that I talked with on the phone, correct?"

Mrs. Higgins practically melted at the compliment. Wonderful woman? Yes indeed. "Oh my, well aren't you just the sweetest thing? I know you wanted to talk to Anthony alone before the group counseling started, but I was wondering if I could speak to you as well…alone…in your office, perhaps?"

"Of course," the man easily agreed. "We encourage parents to be as involved in their child's life as possible. Anthony? Why don't you just wait here for a few minutes? The other kids will start coming in soon so please don't be too shy to introduce yourself."

Racetrack solemnly nodded as he watched the two adults walk away. He slumped in a nearby chair. He already hated this place with a passion. He couldn't believe that Spot had thought that he would like it.

"I don't know you," a girl stated, interrupting Racetrack's musings as she sat down next to him.

"Not all that surprising," Racetrack answered back flippantly.

The girl didn't seem to take any offense. "So what are you supposed to be in for? Or did your parents just want you to get rid of you for a couple of hours? That happens every once and again."

"It's not really any of your business, is it?" Racetrack snapped at her.

The girl shrugged. "I guess it's not. Nobody's really had a problem sharing things with me before so I just thought…but I guess I shouldn't have made the assumption. The assuming possum never gets laid."

Racetrack looked at her in confusion. Possum? What? And why the hell isn't he getting laid?

"The assuming possum never got laid?" the girl asked, sensing the boy's perplexity. "It's an expression. Or it might do more like 'the assum possum gets laid everyday."

"I've never heard of any expressions that include a possum," Racetrack told her honestly.

"Huh. Oh! You know who would know? Spike! …Or is his name Split? …Spit? …Spitter? Spotter? Yellow spotted fish! I like the purple ones better though."

Racetrack moved a few chairs down in an attempt to get away from her. It was just his luck that the rehab wouldn't have any problem accepting a nut job or two.

* * *

Speed slipped into Spot's room, pulling Gadget along with him. "Spot! Yo, man, you in here? Gadget crashed another car."

"Get the hell out of here," Slingshot ordered from underneath the bed covers.

"Oh shit!" Speed exclaimed, covering both his and Gadget's eyes. "You're doing the whole…horizontal tango together and you didn't even bother to lock the door? What the hell's wrong with you two? Anyone could have wandered in here."

"I'm the only one here," Slingshot snapped in annoyance.

"You're…" Speed looked at Gadget for a second before continuing, "…M-A-S-T-U-R-B-A-T-E-I-N-G in Spot's bed?"

"No!" Slingshot answered, finally sitting up and letting the covers fall off him a bit. "As you can see I'm fully clothed. I was just taking a nap."

"I can spell masturbating, you know," Gadget spoke up, "I also know what it is. I've even engage in it. Like…three times a day…at least…for like, two years. Do I really have to keep telling you that I'm _fourteen_, not _four_? Also, you spelled it wrong; 'masturbating' doesn't have an 'e' in it."

"Well…you crashed the jeep like a four year old," Speed retorted.

"Four year olds can't even crash jeeps…their feet can't reach the gas pedals," Gadget muttered angrily under his breath.

"Spot's with Bam," Slingshot said, interrupting their argument. "If you want him he's in our room. If you wanted me then you're out of luck because I am taking a nice long nap."

"Alrighty," Speed accepted, "You just be sure Spot doesn't find out you slept in his bed."

"I plan on putting out," Slingshot told him matter-of-factly, "It should even things out quite a bit."

"Not in front of the kid, man," Speed whispered, jerkily nodding his head at Gadget.

Gadget rolled his eyes. "Let's just fucking go."

"Watch your language," Speed scolded as Gadget pulled him out the door.

They ran into Spot and Bam not five seconds after.

"Gadget crashed the jeep," Speed said immediately.

"So fix it," Spot ordered, rolling his eyes. He really didn't like Sundays in Brooklyn. He idly wondered what Racetrack was doing. He should be at the rehab place by now.

"Are you smiling?" Speed asked in confusion, interrupting Spot's thoughts. "Why the hell are you smiling? It's creepy. Please stop. Are you thinking of killing someone? A lot of people?"

"I'm not thinking of killing anyone," Spot roughly assured him.

"Are you thinking of killing _me_?" Speed asked in slight panic, not believing Spot. "Because that's just not cool at all. I promise not to talk Gadget into taking another joy ride, alright?"

"I wasn't even smiling," Spot denied.

"You totally were," Bam tried to convince him, "And it was _super_ creepy because that was a smile of pure joy and pure joy to you means pain and misery for others."

"It wasn't a smile of pure joy," Spot argued. Jesus, god, and the holy ghost, hanging out with _Racetrack_ was better than dealing with these complete idiots.

"He's smiling again," Bam announced in a worried voice.

"Who votes for leaving?" Speed asked hurriedly, already beginning to run away while pulling Gadget with him.

Bam immediately followed after them.

Spot rolled his eyes. What a bunch of incompetent morons.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me crash here, Mushie," Itey said as soon as he woke up on Mush's chest. "I know I was a pain in the ass, but I think the whole sleep over thing really helped."

"It wasn't any trouble," Mush assured him. "I just wish I could do more for you."

"It was my fault," Itey claimed as he rolled off of Mush in order to lie on his back in the bed. "I'm the one who made Skittery head for the hills with all that 'love' shit. I don't believe I actually told him that."

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Mush replied. "You opened yourself up to someone you love and they hurt you; you don't need to add guilt on top of everything else you're dealing with."

Itey sighed. "He seems fine with it too. I mean, he just acted like nothing was the matter. I thought… Everything we had together and he was able to ignore it so quickly. He acted fine. Didn't he act fine? Fuck, I'm starting to cry again. I need some beer in the worst way."

"No beer," Mush ordered. "You know that's not going to make anything better and I don't want to see you drunk. I'm sure Skittery's hurting too right now. He was just trying to cover it up and act okay. You were acting pretty okay too, by the time he got there."

"Yeah? Because I certainly don't _feel_ okay," Itey argued. "My sinuses are clogged from crying all night, my throat hurts from all the smoking I did in order to try and relax, and it feels like someone ran over my chest with a dump truck. If I can't have beer can I have weed instead?"

"No drugs," Mush demanded. "They aren't a good way for you to deal with your problems. You just have to wait it out. It'll get better if you just give it time."

"Has anyone every rolled over your chest with a dump truck, Mushie?" Itey snapped. "It fucking hurts. I can't…I'm not going to be able to deal with this. I can't just _wait_; I need to _do_ something about it. And I have to see him everyday. And he'll be happy and offensive and so _Skittery_ that I won't be able to stand it. He's the person I call at two in the morning when I can't sleep. He's the person I skip class with. We spend every waking second of our lives either physically together or imagining ourselves being together…or at least I do. And now, suddenly, it's just gone. No more Skittery."

"You know you can call me whenever," Mush offered, trying his best to make Itey feel better.

Itey forced out a small chuckle as he roughly wiped away his tears. "You going to take his place, Mush? Can you be my fuck buddy, too?"

Mush looked shocked for a moment. "I…no. I'm not trying to replace him. I'm just trying to… I want to be there for you, you know? So if you need me I'm…here, okay?"

"Yeah," Itey nodded. "Sorry. …About the whole fuck buddy thing, I mean. I'm not exactly in my right mind."

"Well, who would be when their chest just got run over by a dump truck?" Mush asked with a sympathetic smile.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me sleep here, Little Buddy," Skittery said as he woke up and caught Blink sleeping on him. "I probably would have gone home and gotten fucked up on drugs and then gone out and done something incredibly stupid."

"I'm pretty sure you already did something stupid," Blink replied as he got off of Skittery. "You want to tell me what happened between you and Itey now?"

"Well, apparently you already think it's my fault, so why should I bother?" Skittery asked before he sat up in bed.

"I think I deserve an explanation of some sort," Blink declared. "I have no idea what the hell's going on even though everyone else seems to know perfectly well. I'd like to know what I'm involved in."

"You aren't involved," Skittery argued. "I just spent the night at your place because you're a friend, alright? It's no big deal anyway."

"You kept me up half the night because you couldn't sleep," Blink reminded him. "That kind of points to something being wrong."

"Itey broke a promise and I freaked out about it and now we aren't sleeping together anymore," Skittery snapped. "See? No big deal."

"You and Itey broke up? How is that not a big deal?" Blink exclaimed. "I want details. Now."

"Itey told me he loved me," Skittery admitted with reluctance. "And I freaked out about it and left."

"Itey told you he loved you? That's the problem?" Blink asked with disbelief. "Itey told you that he loved you and you just… What? Got up and left? Who the hell does that?"

"Me. I do that," Skittery snapped. "And if you don't mind I'm kind of drowning in the guilt as is it so if you could just lay off-"

"You're such a fucktard," Blink stated, making Skittery snap to attention. "Itey loves you and you love Itey. That's easy enough to see. What the hell's the problem with saying it?"

"I don't do relationships."

"Why not?" Blink asked, still angry.

"Because they make me happy."

Blink paused a second to try to work out his confusion. "And you don't want to be happy?" he asked slowly.

"Not flowers-and-chocolates happy," Skittery tried to explain. "I don't like the whole hearts-and-rainbows thing. I like chaos and drama and passion and fights and mayhem."

Blinnk rolled his eye. "And you think that by telling Itey you love him everything thing will change."

Skittery nodded.

"Fucktard! You already _have_ a relationship, you dimwit. No one changes their entire personality just because they tell someone they love them."

"We don't have a _real_ relationship…at least not in the romantic sense," Skittery argued. "I've done relationships before, Blink, and they don't work out. I suddenly start seeing 'em as my jailhouse. My head starts telling me all the things I can't do anymore. With Itey…we're fuck buddies. I do who I want, when I want. I tell him I…you know…him then we get in a relationship and I won't…you know… him and I'm not putting him through that."

"Have you ever told anyone that you loved them?"

"Seriously told them? No. That's kind of my other problem, isn't it? Can't do it."

Blink sighed.

* * *

"This is the song the never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends," the psycho girl mumbled darkly under her breath. She was really starting to creep Racetrack out. "Some people, started singin' it, not knowin' what it was, and they'll continue singin' it forever just because, this is the song that never ends, yes it goes on and on, my friends…"

Racetrack grit his teeth in frustration. He really couldn't take much more of this. Just when he was about to snap his mom and the counselor finally came out of the office.

"Anthony!" the counselor greeted again, still seeming way too excited about everything. "It looks as if we're finally ready for you. Do you mind stepping into my office for a bit?"

Racetrack shot another look at Psycho Girl before turning to nod at the counselor. No, he really, _really_ didn't mind...at all.

"Goodbye Anthony," Mrs. Higgins said, reminding her son that she had yet to leave. She pulled him into a hug. "I'll be back in about an hour, okay? Try your best," she ordered him before pulling away and heading towards the exit.

Racetrack looked back at the counselor and saw him smiling at him in a creepy way. Okay, maybe he _did_ have a problem being alone in an office with him.

"Shall we get going then?" the counselor asked happily, still sporting the too wide smile and too wide eyes.

Racetrack just nodded while idly wondering if it was the wrong choice.

"So!" the counselor began, practically shoving Racetrack into a chair before shutting and locking the door behind him.

_Locking_ the door? Okay, that did _not_ seem like a good omen at _all_.

"My name's Stan Chofsky, but you can call me Rambler," the man announced, _still_ being so happy that it had to be fake. "Spot called ahead to make sure we took _extra_ good care of you."

'…_Extra_ good care…'? That didn't sound very calming _either_, but Racetrack just nodded blankly. He hadn't spent hours perfecting his poker face for nothing.

"So how is Spot anyway?" Rambler asked, dropping his creepy smile as he leaned forward in his chair and spoke with an excitement that seemed genuine. "I haven't really talked to him in a good number of years. Well, I _talk_ to him, but not really. You know how it is. He pretty much just gives me orders and I follow them. It's a shame, really. But I understand. Of course I do. He still blames me for his brother's death. Of course he does. How could he not? I'm the guy that sold the dude the bag of coke that he OD'd on after all. But really, it wasn't my fault he never had any self-control. But Spot? He's never forgiven me for it. It's a shame, really. I used to really like him. Back when he was a kid at least. But you know how it is. People grow up. Of course they do. Why wouldn't they?"

He stopped for a second before his creepy smile slipped back on. He slowly got out of his seat and sauntered over to Racetrack in order to touch his cheek. "You have a really pretty face," he commented, back to sounding way too happy. "How easily do you bleed?"

Racetrack stood up abruptly, shoving the man away. He kicked around the door's handle as hard as he could, effectively smashing the lock before walking out of the building with a forced calm. He was going to _kill_ Sean.

* * *

Spot had come into his bedroom to find Slingshot happily sleeping in his bed. He had literally kicked his second-in-command to the floor but before he could start yelling at him Slingshot had pointed out that Spot was smiling and it was really creeping him out. Without another word Slingshot was gone.

Typically Spot would have been curious has to why people kept telling him he was smiling when he wasn't, but this was the first time he had been left alone in his room during the day so he really couldn't bring himself to care all that much. He was just having a good time enjoying the silence.

"Okay, all! Watch and be amazed as I climb this wall!" Spot heard the muffled voice through the thin walls before a distinct thump came. Spot rolled his eyes. Hunter could be such an idiot. But it gave everyone else something to watch on Sundays instead of trying to find trouble so Spot refused to stop the stupid kid. Plus, the stupid fuck deserved all the aches and pains he got if he seriously thought he was _anything_ like Spiderman.

Spot was abruptly interrupted from his musings when his door slammed shut.

"What the fuck Spot? What the hell was that?" Racetrack shouted immediately, "Is this your idea of a joke? Do you think this is _funny_? Because I am so very far from laughing."

"So I take it you met Rambler?" Spot asked with a smirk, clearly not feeling all that intimidated by Racetrack's shouting.

"Yes, I fucking met Rambler," Racetrack snapped. "He's an absolute nutcase! I can't believe my mother just _left_ me there after she had talked to him in an enclosed room for ten minutes!"

"He's not _that_ bad," Spot brushed off, "He's just a little too locked in his own head sometimes."

"He locked me in his office and told me I was pretty before asking how easily I _bleed_," Racetrack told him, "And the entire time he was just _smiling_ at me and being completely creepy!"

"He was probably just thinking of all the ways it'd be fun to kill you," Spot guessed with nonchalance. "He does it all the time, but he never usually acts on it. Just tell him that you'd like to kill him in his sleep and before you know you'll be best friends."

"I don't _want_ to be fucking friends with him," Racetrack replied angrily, "The guy's a damn maniac. I don't want anything to do with him!"

"You're being way too dramatic," Spot scoffed, "He's perfectly sane when he starts his rambling. If he starts to creep you out again all you have to do is ask him about something he likes."

Racetrack's anger was quickly replaced with surprise. "So all that stuff he told me…? …Everything about your brother? That was all true?"

Spot looked less than pleased. "Is he going around telling people about that shit? Yeah, it was probably true."

"About-?"

"Yes," Spot snapped to interrupt. "Stop asking."

"I didn't realize that was a sore spot for you," Racetrack replied honestly, "I didn't even know you _had_ sore spots."

"It's not a sore spot," Sean denied. "You were just getting annoying."

"You have a sore spot," Racetrack repeated smugly.

Spot rolled his eyes, "It's not a sore spot, you retard. You don't know anything about it."

"So tell me about it," Racetrack demanded before sitting down on one corner of Spot's bed.

"And I'm guessing you're going to be annoying and sit there until I do?" Spot asked with some irritation.

"Pretty much."

"And you don't think I'll snap your neck to shut you up?"

Racetrack shrugged. "I get the feeling you _want_ to talk about it."

"He wasn't really a brother," Spot replied, surprising Racetrack by answering but surprising himself _more_ by telling the truth. "He took care of me after my parents died. I hated him. One day I saw him passed out on the living room floor. It was pretty clear to see he had OD'd. He was still alive but I just decided to leave him there. I packed up my stuff and left the next morning. He was the first person I killed."

"You didn't kill him," Racetrack argued quietly.

Spot just shrugged as if he didn't really care. "Doesn't really matter. He died, I moved out…shit happens…you know how it is."

"I really don't," Racetrack answered honestly before silence fell.

"You should probably be getting back to the rehab center," Spot finally reminded him. "Your mom's picking you up there, right?"

"Shit, yeah," Racetrack replied. "Fuck, there's no way I'll get there on time if I'm walking."

"I'll drive you," Spot offered without any of his usually smugness.

* * *

"This has been a good day," Dutchy stated as he sighed with contentment. "Like, a _really_ good day, you know? I don't think I've ever felt this good in my entire life. Sex is awesomeness in a can…seriously."

"Glad I could make it so good for you," Bumlets replied with his regular monotone as he lied beside his friend on the bed.

"I can't even _move_ right now," Dutchy commented. "And I don't even want to because I'm just so…fucking…_satisfied_."

"What can I say? I'm a sex god," Bumlets retorted with sarcasm.

"I can back that up," Dutchy realized with glee. "I'm not a virgin anymore. Jesus, I'm not a _virgin_ anymore. Did you know that?"

"I was kind of there," Bumlets reminded him with a small smile. His smile dropped as he changed the subject, "So…you and me… There's nothing between us, right? You haven't changed your mind?"

Dutchy sighed in irritation. "Are you seriously still worrying about that? We're friends and that's it, all right? I know that fuck buddies is as far as our relationship goes in the sex department."

"I don't want to end up hurting you, Dutch," Bumlets explained with honesty as he rolled over onto his side in order to look his friend in the eye. "I mean that, okay?"

Dutchy yawned. "Bumlets, I love you, I seriously do, but not like that, okay? This won't become anymore than it is."

Bumlets nodded, not really sure whether to believe him or not. "I'm surprised your parents let you stay here last night," Bumlets remarked, changing the subject once again.

Dutchy's eyes widened. "Holy fuck and a puppy!"

Bumlets felt his stomach sink as realization dawned on him. "You never called your parents last night."

"I never fucking called my parents last night!" Dutchy repeated on a more panicked note as he jumped from the bed and started searching for his pants. "I never… Oh fuck. Oh fuck. This isn't good. This is not… this could quite possibly be the worst thing that will ever happen to me. They're going to think I stayed out all night so I could mess around with some guy and they're going to be _right_ this time and I don't know how to react to them being _right_."

"Hey," Bumlets interrupted, grapping his friend's hand and pulling him back into the bed. "Chill for a minute, okay? Everything's going to be fine. Look, just go home, act normal, and just ride it out. I'll be here if you need me, okay?"

Dutchy tried to calm down, but it was quite apparent that he was still freaking out. "My parents are going to kill me. It doesn't matter what I say they're going to…they might… what if they kick me out? Oh god."

"If they kick you out then you come here," Bumlets replied firmly. "And you can stay for as long as you want."

"What if they send me away to get…fixed or whatever? I don't want to be fixed, Bumlets. I'm starting to like being gay."

"Then come here," Bumlets said again. "You're going to be eighteen in less than a month, right? Pretty soon they're not going to have any legal control over you at all so just…ride it out for a bit longer, all right? I'll be here if you need me."

"I don't want to go home," Dutchy whined. "I don't want to face them."

"They're probably worried about you and you really should go back, but if you don't want to I don't mind you staying here," Bumlets answered.

"I should go," Dutchy replied, trying his best to be responsible. "Will you stay by your phone in case I need you?"

Bumlets smiled. "Are you trying to turn me into a girl now? You want me waste the entire day by waiting by the phone?"

Dutchy faltered. "It's too much to ask for. I'm sorry, I shouldn't've-"

"I'll wait," Bumlets assured. "Now get the fuck out of here before your parents get even more pissed."

Dutchy jerkily nodded before heading towards the door.

* * *

Spot was busy driving one of his cars back to the hotel from the rehabilitation center where he had dropped Racetrack off. They had beat Mrs. Higgins there by less than a minute. It was something Spot was extremely thankful for because it meant he didn't have to engage in conversation with Rambler.

He was still trying to figure out what had made him tell Racetrack about Rambler.

Sure, he hadn't told Racetrack _everything_.

He hadn't told Racetrack that his guardian had OD'd on coke. He hadn't told Racetrack how his pseudo brother snorted coke _at least_ three times a day. He hadn't told Racetrack that he (an eight year old that was already way too grown up for his age) had been the one to _get_ the money for all the coke (and he definitely told him _how_ he'd obtained the money). He hadn't told Racetrack how he had celebrated, actually _celebrated_ on the day his fake brother was declared dead because it meant that he was finally free.

But he had told him the basics and that was a lot more than he did for most people.

So what made him do it?

As far as he could tell it was nothing. He didn't _need_ to tell him. He didn't tell him to get something for him. He just…wanted to tell him. Clearly it was a moment of weakness. …And that was a bit more than weird because he was pretty sure he hadn't really _had_ moments of weakness before.

He idly found himself wondering if Racetrack had even believed his story.

* * *

Jack slowly walked down some street he only vaguely knew wandering what to do with himself. He had no money so that ruled out…practically everything but walking.

He hadn't slept last night. After the late night and slightly illegal party in the park he couldn't bring himself to go to Swifty's; he felt too guilty over ditching him. He couldn't go to Bumlets, Dutchy's, Itey's, or Skittery's because he had quite blatantly told them that he wouldn't sleep over at their houses anymore. So, without anywhere comfortable to sleep and morning pretty much dawning anyway he had decided that it was probably better to not sleep at all.

Now he was cranky, hungry, and bored, but he really couldn't do anything about any of his problems.

Fuck, he had really screwed himself over.

He was wearing Swifty's clothes because those were really the only ones he had. He had left one pair of (dirty) clothing at Swifty's house and everything else he had was currently residing at one of the druggies' houses. It looked as if he'd be wearing this outfit to school tomorrow which would bring suspicion since all of his friends seemed to really concentrate on clothing. And what the hell would he say when they asked about it?

He supposed that he could always steal some clothes from a store but…he felt kind of apprehensive about that. If he got caught it would only make things worse. How would he go about explaining that he got caught shoplifting even though he was rich? Everyone would think he was a kleptomaniac.

How did things manage to get so screwed up?

He finally took another look at his surrounding. Fuck, where the hell was he?

Awesome. Not only was he hungry, tired, and dirty with no place to go now, on top of everything else, he was lost. Fucking lost.

He tilted his head up to the sky and closed his eyes, trying to keep from screaming or kicking something or…he didn't even know what at this point. He had lost control over everything and was pretty fucking close to just giving up. He officially sucked at life. He wondered how easily it would be to just quit. Admit defeat. Say, 'Okay, I lost. I give up. You win.' He just wanted it to _end_.

"Why if it isn't Jacky-boy," Sean's smug voice cut in. "Looking for a rematch?"

"I wouldn't put up much of a fight," Jack admitted honestly.

Sean took a second took look the other boy other before nodding to himself and sighing. "Right then. Let's go."

"And where, exactly, am I going?" Jack asked with suspicion.

Sean looked at him curiously for a few seconds. "I'm giving you a place to sleep since you don't seem to have one."

Jack looked surprised for a minute before glaring. "I don't need your charity, got it?"

"Yeah, of course you don't," Sean agreed with sarcasm. "Don't try and bullshit me; I know a homeless kid when I see them. I'm offering you a bed, food, and a shower with no questions asked. Fucking take the offer before I change my mind."

Jack soberly nodded his head in agreement, realizing that he couldn't really say 'no'.

* * *

A/N:  
I've reposted chapters one through nine so far so if you ever find yourself with absolutely nothing to do you can feel free to reread those chapters. I haven't changed a lot, (it was mostly just spelling mistakes and what not) but there were a couple scenes I changed or took out.

Also, this story's one-year anniversary is coming up in approximately six weeks. I kind of want to write a chapter that has nothing to do with the plot as a celebration. I was thinking about letting you spend the day with all the Brooklyn OC's (and Spot, obviously) but if anyone has any other ideas I'd love to hear them.

Until Next Time,  
Please Don't Hold Back

Oi! Where do you think you're going? Are you about to leave me without writing a review? That's just not cool. Come on now, do the right thing and send in a review. I promise to love you forever if you do.


	17. This Is Getting Fucking Hard

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Beta'ed By: 'Tis a Tale Worth Telling (Yep, that's right, a got myself a Beta. Go on, admire her all you like, but no touching; she's mine.)

Summary of Chapter 16:  
-Bam punches someone, Gadget crashes a car, Hunter fails to walk on walls, Slingshot tries to sleep, and Spot smiles while thinking about Racetrack  
-Dutchy and Bumlets decide to be fake boyfriends and fuck buddies  
-Racetrack goes to rehab  
-Sarah gets David to talk about why he punched Specs  
-Itey spends the day with Mush  
-Skittery spends the day with Blink  
-Rambler creeps Racetrack out  
-Spot tells Racetrack a bit about his older brother/neighbor (his first kill)  
-Dutchy finally realized that he spent the night at Bumlets' house without telling his parents  
-Jack spends the night with Spot

Getting Back Together Again**  
XVII: This Is Getting Fucking Hard **

Bumlets woke up and stumbled into his kitchen. He saw Dutchy sitting at the kitchen table just like any other school day. "So I guess I can assume everything went okay with your parents."

"Uh … better than I thought … I guess? Yeah, I guess. I told them about us … in the I-have-a-boyfriend way … as opposed to the … um … I-have-a-fuck-buddy-now kind of way," Dutchy told him. "I left out tons of details and everything, but still-"

"They aren't going to help us plan the wedding." Bumlets nodded. "It's not like I'm all that surprised. The fact that you seem to be in one piece is shocking enough."

"Well, I … My parents decided that they'd let me stay at home until I'm eighteen. I think it's their way of easing the guilt of sending their own son off to fend for himself. It's not a huge deal, I guess. I mean, I already pretty much decided to move out when I turned into a legal adult, so … Of course, the next month's going to be a bitch; my parents will probably try their hardest to convince me that being a fag is wrong."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Dutch. I shouldn't've-"

Dutchy waved it away. "Stop getting your guilt all over me. It's fine. I swear."

Bumlets raised his eyebrows.

"Er, okay, so it's not all that fine, but it's not all that _awful_ either, you know. I was going to be moving out anyway, right? And, really, my parents have tried to convince me all gays are going to hell for _years_ now. It's not really all that big of a change. Plus, it's going to be less than a month. I'd be ashamed of myself if I couldn't deal."

"You have any idea where you're going to move? Because you know you can always stay here, right? Hell, I let Jack sleep over all the time and I _hate_ him."

Dutchy smiled. "Thanks. I might take you up on that. I'll definitely have to start looking for a job, though. I'm not really looking forward to actually having to go to work on top of school, but I need to get money _somehow_. I really doubt my parents plan to help out at all after I'm legally not their responsibility."

"That's, like … _responsible_ and shit of you, Dutch," Bumlets realized with some pride. "I can get on board with that."

"What? Me being responsible or getting a job?" Dutchy asked with a chuckle.

"Both, actually."

Dutchy practically beamed. "Are you saying you'll look around for a job with me?"

Bumlets smiled back and shrugged. "Yeah, man. I can't let you take my place as the responsible one in the group, can I? That'd mean that I was the stupid and naïve one."

"Hey! I'm not stupid and naïve!" Dutchy argued.

Bumlets laughed. "I'm taking a shower. You want to make breakfast?"

"I'd rather take a shower with you. I didn't get a chance to this morning; I rushed out of the house as fast as I could to avoid my parents. Plus, I haven't had sex in, like, fifteen hours."

"I can't believe I made you into a sex addict in less than two days," Bumlets replied with a smile. "Alright, Sexy, let's go, but you're the one that has to explain to Skittery and Itey why they aren't eating this morning."

"We'll just go through a drive-thru or something," Dutchy brushed off, already heading into the bathroom. "Are you coming? Let's go. I want some sex."

* * *

"Come on," Blink ordered, pushing Skittery off of him. He had somehow found his way onto Blink's chest _again_. "We have school and I still need to shower and shit."

Skittery didn't even bother opening his eyes. "Is that figuratively or literally?"

"You're disgusting." Blink rolled his eye in exasperation "Now get the hell up. We have to stop by your house to get your stuff for school _and_ you need to change _and_ … Fuck, we're going to be late."

Skittery blinked a few times before opening his eyes fully. "'Fuck'? Did you just say 'fuck'? Why, Blinky-kins, I do believe I'm rubbing off on you. This is…" He faked a sniffle. "This is such a proud moment for me."

"Stop talking and get off me," Blink ordered, trying to shove Skittery away from him.

"Jesus, you sure are a bitchy bastard in the mornings," Skittery muttered loud enough for Blink to hear. He finally rolled off of him to lie on his back. "Or is that just me rubbing off on you more? Speaking of rubbing off-"

"No sex jokes. I'm not a morning person. Plus, I had to deal with all your ridiculous euphemisms the entire weekend. It's starting to get pretty old."

"Are they starting to turn you on too much?"

"They're starting to be a pain in my ass."

"_I'd_ like to be a pain in your ass," Skittery flirted.

"Stop it," Blink snapped as he flipped his covers off and got up.

Skittery moved so he was lying on his stomach and taking up both sides of the bed. He looked up at Blink and smirked. "Relax, I wouldn't _really_ fuck you. Well, I _would_, but you so clearly have a thing going on with Mush."

"I don't have a thing going on with Mush," Blink denied, clearly confused.

Skittery snorted. "Oh, you _so_ do. Just because you're completely oblivious-"

"Mush isn't even gay, and we're best friends, and I think of him like a brother, and … and I just don't think about him like that … like … at all."

"Yeah, and I'm sure all of those reasons can convince _other_ people, but I'm different because..."

17

"…Because I've _had_ my best friend become my lover … er … fuck buddy …" Itey shook his head a bit. "Well, titles don't matter all that much. The point is: I've been there. Hell, I was just like you. I wasn't even the least bit gay until I fell for Skittery."

"It's not like that with me and Blink," Mush tried to explain. "We're just friends."

"Right, and if you made a move on him that would mean you wouldn't be friends anymore, and you don't want to lose that," Itey continued hurriedly for him. "I _know_. The same argument went through my head hundreds of times. Hell, if Skittery wasn't so … so completely compulsive … if he hadn't've straddled my lap and started making out with me while I was on a date … well, there's no _way_ we would have ever gone out."

"Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this right now," Mush gently suggested. "I'm sure Skittery is still a sore spot for you. Plus, we need to go to your house to pick up clothes and your backpack and-"

"You think you have a reason why my going out with Skittery was a bad idea," Itey observed. "Go ahead and tell me. This weekend did me good, I swear. I need to be able to deal with all of this before I see Skittery again, anyway, right? I have to get used to the idea of us not … er … doing whatever it was we were doing."

Mush shifted uncomfortably. "It's just … you really _did_ completely lose Skittery, didn't you? I mean, you're not going to be able to go back to being friends with him when this whole thing is over, are you? Sure, you'll try, but … really … do you think you'll be as close as you used to be?"

Itey frowned. "Since when did you become so pessimistic?" He sighed and thought about it for a few seconds. "You know how people say that they'd want a lover or nothing at all? I mean … they break up with someone and they won't _just_ be friends with them because they love them too much to bear it? Well, with Skittery … I love him so much that I want him in my life no matter what. Sure, it'll be painful being just friends, but … I couldn't have him just disappear … he's too much a part of my life."

Mush nodded, deep in thought.

"Anyway," Itey said, getting up from his seat and heading towards the door, "I'm going to go have a smoke. I'll be waiting outside for you so we can swing by my house before school, 'kay? You got five minutes before I hot wire your car and leave without you."

Mush nodded again, still distracted.

* * *

"Get the fuck up," Hunter shouted at Jack, who was busy trying to sleep on one of Spot's completely ruined couches. "Jesus Christ and a fucking monkey," he muttered to himself. "How does Spot find all these bitches? And why the hell do _I_ have to take care of them all?"

"I never asked you to wake Jack," Spot pointed out from behind him.

Hunter immediately jumped. "Holy hell on a stick! Don't sneak up on someone like that, man! Jesus, are you _trying_ to kill me? Know what? Don't answer that."

Spot raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell are you in my room trying to wake Jack?"

"Just heard you brought _another_ one of your bitches over here, and I got curious," Hunter replied, crossing his arms.

Spot glared dangerously. "I thought we took care of this."

"Oh, wait a fucking minute," Jack interrupted, blinking and pulling himself up a bit so he rested on his elbow. "I am _not_ Sean's bitch."

"Shut the hell up, you cunt," Hunter demanded. "This isn't about you."

"You were just talking about me, you idiot, therefore it _is_ about me. And, I am _not_ Sean's bitch." He finally got up in order to face Hunter head-on.

"Oh, yeah? I'm not all that sure I believe that shit," Hunter retorted. "How hard did he fuck you last night? Did you scream for more, you little slut?"

"Are you _trying_ to make me kick your ass?" Jack growled, clenching his fists.

Hunter confidently smirked back at him. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, bitch. You couldn't kick my ass even if I _didn't_ have Spot's help."

"What the fuck kind of name is 'Spot'?" Jack asked. "He sounds like a pussy to me. Listen, you and your little friend can try all you want; I'll take you _both_ down."

"Is that a fact, bottom boy? You definitely don't know who you're messing with, do you?" Hunter shot back.

"Both of you shut the hell up," Spot ordered before turning to Hunter. "Do we have a problem here, Hunt? I'm pretty sure I warned you about this before. You want to take it to the next step?"

Hunter glared a bit before backing off. "There's no problem … _sir_."

"Then get the fuck out of here and make sure not to bring it up again. You're starting to become too much of a hassle," Spot replied with a warning tone before Hunter bowed his head and left. Spot then rounded towards Jack. "And you, stop fucking picking fights you can't win."

"I could've taken that pussy and his little friend," Jack declared.

"His 'little friend' was me, you idiot," Spot told him, "and I'm pretty fucking sure you already proved that you can't take me. Now get the fuck in the shower while I find you some clothes."

"Hey, just so we're clear … I'm _not_ your bitch," Jack announced, glaring. "The rest of these morons may listen to you, but I won't. Got it?"

"Listen, Jacky-boy, because perhaps I didn't make it clear enough last night: as long as you're staying here, you _are_ my bitch. Feel free to leave whenever you want, though. I'll be happy to get rid of you," Spot replied. "Now get in the fucking shower while I find you some god damned clothes."

* * *

When Bumlets and Dutchy finally got to school they found Itey already smoking along their wall.

"Thanks for making me drive my heaping pile of trash to school," Bumlets greeted. "I thought it was going to explode on me when I started going over thirty."

"Oh, dear. You had to actually drive your _own_ car? Poor, poor you."

Bumlets decided to ignore his friend's pissy attitude. "Why'd you just leave us like that? We were just standing around waiting for you. You couldn't have called to tell us you weren't picking us up? I don't understand how you could have forgotten; you've been driving us to school since you got your license last year."

Itey shrugged, clearly apathetic. "You should be glad I even let you two fucking cunt suckers _into_ my car."

Dutchy looked smug. "Actually, I can officially say that I'm a _cock_ sucker now."

Itey looked confused for a second. "Seriously? You and Sean? I don't believe it. Are you sure it wasn't just some super-obsessive dream? You've had them before."

"It wasn't Sean, and it definitely wasn't a dream," Dutchy corrected happily. "Bumlets and I are going out now." He smiled smugly before reaching over and grabbing the other boy's hand.

Bumlets just nodded as Itey rounded onto to him.

"Well, slap my ass and make me cry. No shit?" Itey asked with a small smile. "You finally accepted your gayness, Bumlets? Wait until Skittery hears; he'll be-" He faltered for a few seconds when he realized yet again that he and Skittery were no longer going out. "… He'll be … you know … happy … and stuff."

"Where _is_ Skittery?" Bumlets finally asked. He looked around in slight confusion. "Didn't he come with you?"

Itey shrugged, trying his best not to act worried.

"Shit. So you still think he's at home?" Bumlets asked.

"He didn't come to your house like usual," Dutchy pointed out. "Maybe he got a ride?"

Suddenly Skittery came around the corner. "Hey, fuckers. You miss me?"

Itey nodded to him, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to his friend anymore and it beyond sucked.

"How'd you get here?" Dutchy asked. He idly started swinging the hand holding onto Bumlets.

"Got a ride with Blink." Skittery looked at the interlocking hands of Bumlets and Dutchy. "So what the hell is up with _you_ two?"

"Okay, so, are you ready for this?" Itey burst in, trying his best to get back on familiar ground. "Bumlets … okay? _Bumlets _has helped our little Dutchy become a real, live cock sucker."

"Holy shit, seriously?" Skittery responded, pretty much bouncing up and down in glee. "Bumlets, you're gay now? HA! I totally fucking called that one. I must admit, though … you getting together with _Dutchy_ of all people? That's coming off as more of a surprise. But really, we should've seen it coming. I mean, Jesus Christ above, Bumlets has been about the only person Dutchy _hasn't_ fallen for yet … er … _hadn't_ fallen for, I guess it should be. Past tense and everything, right?"

"Yep, our little Duchty-kins has finally landed a man," Itey said. "I'm so proud."

"Hey, who bottomed?" Skittery asked excitedly. "Please, please, _please_ tell me it was Bumlets."

Bumlets rolled his eyes, not looking all that amused. "Sorry to crush your happiness," he apologized, "but Dutchy was the one that bottomed."

"Each and every single time," Dutchy backed up proudly.

Skittery sighed in disappointment. "Ah, well, I guess a man can't have _everything_ he wants. Still, it would have been pretty great."

"Hey," Itey interrupted. "What the hell is that?" He jerked his head in the direction of Sean's motorcycle, bringing everyone's attention to the fact that Jack was on the back. "When did those two become friends and why did I miss it? Weren't they beating the shit out of each other on Friday?"

"You think Jack spent the night at Sean's?" Dutchy asked.

"I think that's fucking obvious, Dutch," Skittery answered. "The real question is 'Why the fuck did he go to _Sean's_?' I would've bet twenty bucks he ended up at fucking Swifty's house."

"Why won't you let me drive your motorcycle?" they heard Jack ask as he and Sean got closer to them.

Sean pulled out his pack of cigarettes and took one out of the box, then lit up. "You'd fucking crash it, that's why."

"It was such a rush just to _ride_ it," Jack gushed. "Let me drive it around for a couple of blocks and I'll bring it right back, I swear."

"You don't even know how to fucking _drive_ a motorcycle." Spot took a hit off his cigarette before blowing the smoke in Jack's face. "You kept asking where the gas and shit was."

Jack scrunched his nose at the smoke, but didn't say anything about it. "So you can teach me. I'm sure it's not all that hard," he wheedled. "Come on. Just once around the school. I'll even fucking drive it in the parking lot if you're _that_ protective of your precious bike."

"So when the fuck did this happen?" Skittery asked, interrupting their argument.

"When did what happen?" Sean replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Since when did you become friends with Jack?" Itey rephrased for his fu- … er … fri- … ah … for Skittery.

"Since never," Sean answered. He smirked. "Jacky here's my bitch."

"I am fucking _not_."

"Oh? Does that mean you've rethought the whole bed thing?" Sean inquired smugly.

Jack clenched both his fists. "I don't even _have_ a fucking bed, you bastard. I have some ratty old couch that belonged in a trash heap _years_ ago."

"So it's kind of like you, then," Skittery interrupted.

Jack just glared at him.

* * *

"Just what the hell am I supposed to do next Sunday when I have to go back?" Racetrack asked Sean as soon as he saw him in first period. "There's no fucking way I'm going to deal with that fucking maniac on a regular basis."

Sean rolled his eyes. "He's not going to rape you or anything, you know. Calm the fuck down."

"This is all your fucking fault!" Racetrack practically growled. "I asked you to _help_ me, not make things worse."

"You said you'd do anything," Sean reminded him with a calm smirk. "Stupid me for assuming you actually _meant_ that. I guess you just don't have the balls to back up that big mouth of yours."

"I said that I'd do anything in order to see Mush and Blink again," Racetrack hissed loudly, causing a few of his classmates' heads to glance toward him. "Have you seen me talking to them recently? You haven't fucking delivered, Sean. I don't even know if you actually _will_."

Spot glared while still making sure he held himself at ease. "I have no problem '_delivering'_," he assured him. "It's you backing out of the deal that I'm worried about. If you can't even stand to do _this_ much then there's no way I'm going to get any use out of you."

"Don't fucking talk about me like I'm some fucking tool, Sean!" Racetrack shouted, punching Spot on the side of his jaw and quickly drawing the attention of everyone else in the classroom.

Sean stumbled back both from the hit and from shock. This was … not the reaction he had expected. He felt the bruise, still in slight shock. The motherfucker actually fucking _hurt_.

Racetrack tensed, his fists clenched together. "And what are you trying to do exactly? Are you trying to test me? Is that it? See how far I'll go until I snap? You can't just fuck around with my life and expect to get away with it! I told you to fucking _help_, not control everything. What the hell is-"

Spot finally interrupted him by punching Racetrack in the side of the face.

Disbelief appeared across Racetrack's face as the momentum forced him to take a few steps back in order to remain standing. He couldn't remember the last time someone had actually _punched_ him.

"You punched me," Racetrack said, seemingly lost in a daze. "I can't believe you just fucking _punched_ me."

"You punched me first."

"Only because you were being a bitch."

Sean stared in confusion for a minute. "Did … did you just … What the hell would make you think that calling me a bitch was anything other than a _really_ bad idea?"

Racetrack slumped his shoulders, losing a bit of his steam. "Um … I think that'd be my affinity for talking before thinking about what I'm going to say first," he answered honestly. "People usually get pissed about it, but I've never gotten fucking _punched_ before."

"How the fuck could you expect me _not_ to punch you?" Sean asked. "You're-"

"Why is no one in their seats?" the teacher interrupted, finally striding into the classroom. "The late bell rang a good ten minutes ago. Just because I'm not here doesn't mean that you can just ignore it. Anthony? Sean? Let's go. Get seated."

Racetrack did as was demanded. Spot soon followed suit, all the while thinking about how awesome it would be to kill his teacher. He thought a meat cleaver might be a good weapon of choice. He wondered if he had any lying around at home.

"What happened to your faces?" the teacher asked as soon as she saw the bruises. She frowned at them, already assuming they had fought.

"We bumped into each other," Racetrack lied, even managing to look ashamed. "It's not a big deal."

Spot remained quiet as he touched the bruise on his face. He tried to frown in displeasure, but for some reason his expression magically softened instead. He should have been pissed off as hell, but he just felt some sort of weird sense of pride for Racetrack.

What the fuck was _wrong_ with him lately?

* * *

"What's up with you and Itey?" Bumlets asked Skittery as soon as they met in their second period English class.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Skittery replied defensively before sitting down. "There's nothing going on."

Bumlets shot his friend a knowing look. "Do you think I'm that stupid? The fact that you two weren't all over each other this morning tells me something's up. Fuck, the fact that you hardly made fun of me for sleeping with Dutchy is another big ass hint."

"What the fuck is with that, anyway? You and Dutchy? Are you serious? If you want to experiment with some boys, I'm more than willing to help out. You know Dutchy's only going to get clingy and shit." Skittery smirked. "And I think you already know how great I can make it for you. Itey's never given me anything other than compliments."

"I've got my 'gay' situation under control, thanks. Don't change the fucking subject … And don't flirt with me; it's creepy. What's going on with you and Itey? You two have a fight or something?"

"Since when do you openly request to hear about other people's problems?" Skittery retorted. "What the fuck's going on with _you_? Just because you're sleeping with guys on a regular basis now doesn't give you the excuse to act like a fucking girl."

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you don't want to tell me, you don't fucking have to. It'd probably be annoying and uncomfortable for me anyway. I don't know why I bothered."

Skittery sighed. "Dude, there's just so much shit going on right now … I don't even know where to start. Shit, when did things start becoming so fucking complicated? First, I find out fucking Sean's some kind of gang leader or something just as bad," he started to rant. "Then, fucking Itey tells me he loves me, so there's no way _we'll_ be fucking anytime soon. And … and I keep feeling like there's something I'm fucking forgetting, but I can't think of what the hell it could be at all. It's fucking annoying."

"Uh huh," Bumlets replied, "I understood … pretty much none of that."

"Good," Skittery said instead of explaining. "It doesn't fucking matter anyway. Just fuck off and go back to trying to fuck Dutchy through your mattress. That's what you were doing all fucking weekend, right?"

"Do I have to repeat myself? I'm not stupid, Skitts, and I know you way too well by this point," Bumlets claimed. "The fact that you used the word 'fuck' four times just to get your point across means you're feeling defensive. And if you're feeling defensive then there has to be something to be defensive _about_. So what the fuck is it? Dutchy? Would you rather I be fucking _you_ through my mattress?"

"No," Skittery snapped. "Just fuck the fucking hell off, okay?"

Bumlets blinked in confusion for a minute before his eyes widened. "Wait. _That's _your problem? Seriously? Why the-"

"No, that's not fucking it. I'm … I'm fucking … I don't want you to start fucking _Itey_ through your mattress, okay?" Skittery reluctantly admitted.

"What? Why the hell would I do something like that? And when the hell did you start thinking that I'm that much of a slut?" Bumlets asked, slightly shocked

"Itey and I aren't seeing each other anymore, right? So now he's probably going to be looking for another fuck buddy, and he's always had this fucking stupid crush on you. I know we fucking joke about it a lot and shit, but … I'm pretty fucking sure, deep down, he still fucking has some small crush on you," Skittery confessed. "And now that you're all fucking gay and shit …"

"Skittery, Jesus Christ, dude, I'm not going to go and try to fuck Itey," Bumlets promised. "I wouldn't do that to you. I don't even understand how you got it into your head that I _might_."

"Why the fuck not? I mean, Itey isn't fucking mine; he never _was_," Skittery pointed out. "Neither of you has any fucking reason _not_ to."

Bumlets sighed. "It's obvious you two … love each other and shit. Shit, I really _am_ turning into a girl. Look, I don't know what the fuck's going on with you and him, but I refuse to ruin it. And God only knows how very _little_ I want to be involved in whatever the hell you two are to each other. Plus, I … I sort of have Dutchy and whatever. I don't really need Itey as a fuck buddy, too, all right?"

Skittery looked down at his desk and nodded.

"So what the fuck was that part about Sean?" Bumlets asked, purposely changing the subject. "He's a gang leader? When the fuck did _that_ happen? And why the hell did I miss it?"

Skittery shrugged. "I don't fucking know, man. The whole thing's way fucked up. Nobody's supposed to know except somehow Blink and Mush found out and Mush told Itey and Itey told me and somehow Sean found out about all of us knowing and- Oh, holy _fucking_ hell!"

"What?"

"Racetrack knows, too, except he doesn't know that _Sean_ knows and- Hey! I think I'm actually beginning to finally understand all this shit," Skittery realized, sounding quite proud of himself.

"Well, I guess that's good, because I'm as confused as fuck," Bumlet admitted.

Skittery laughed. "Yeah, man, it's confusing as fucking hell. I don't even know how I got involved in it all."

"And he's not even _part_ of a gang? I mean, he's actually a gang _leader_? How long have you known?"

"I don't know. I guess a couple of days. Definitely not long enough to get used to it, that's for sure."

Bumlet's frowned. "And it never occurred to you to tell me? Jesus, I would have liked to know that I was hanging out with a _gang leader_."

"Hey, man, I thought you'd appreciate not knowing. 'Ignorance is bliss' and all of that, you know. Fuck, if I could go back to _not_ knowing I would in a second. I'm _still_ pissed Itey told me."

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe not knowing _is_ better. How the fuck am I supposed to act around him? I'm not supposed to know, right? What if he finds out?"

Skittery nodded. "Exactly the problem, my friend. I'm _still_ waiting for him to threaten me or kill me or _something_. The whole thing's doing very bad shit to my stomach."

"Jesus Christ," Bumlets mumbled in disbelief.

Skittery nodded again before smiling slightly. "Hey," he joked, "he could probably get us some damn good drugs, though, right?"

* * *

"Hey, Skitts," Itey greeted, trying his best to be to seem as comfortable as possible while he took his assigned seat next to Skittery in math class.

"Yo," Skittery grumbled back.

"So how surprised were you about Dutchy and Bumlets? It's completely nuts, isn't it?"

Skittery shrugged, studying his open textbook.

"I mean, not only has Dutchy _finally_ landed a man, but Bumlets also came out of the closet," Itey said, plowing on. "I know we joked about Bumlets being gay all the time, but I didn't actually think it was _true_. So … how long do you think they'll last? I'm betting a week at the very most."

"Could we please stop acting like we're still friends?" Skittery finally snapped. "You're getting annoying."

Itey looked shocked for a few seconds before jerking up. His chair crashed to the ground. "You know what? Fuck you, man. What the hell is with you? We can't be friends anymore? Is that it? Did you only ever fucking hang out with me so you could eventually shove your cock up my ass? And if that's true then I hope you get AIDS because you're a complete cunt. And if it's _not_ true then I _still_ hope you get AIDS because you're acting so fucking stupid about this _entire_ fucking thing."

"Fine," Skittery replied with a cold fury he had never had before. He stood up and headed straight for the door without his usual obnoxious attitude. "I'll go and see what I can do on the AIDS front," he explained with obvious forced calm. He quickly walked out of the classroom, letting the door slam on his way out.

"Itey. Office. Principal. Now," the Algebra teacher demanded calmly, at this point very much used to Itey's and Skittery's outbursts during class.

Itey just nodded before leaving.

"Sorry," Skittery mumbled from his position outside their math classroom as soon as Itey passed him.

Itey swept around to face him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed. "Are we seriously not friends anymore? Is that what you want? I … I fucking thought I meant more to you than that."

"No! I mean … yes … I mean … er …you mean a lot to me and shit. God, this is all so fucked up," Skittery tried to explain. "I suddenly don't even know what to say to you and you've pretty much refused to give me _any_ type of grace period."

"Grace period? What the hell makes you think you _deserve_ one? You're the dump-_er_, Skitts; _I'm_ the dumpee. If anyone decides on a grace period, it'll be me, got it?" Itey snapped.

"Why? Because I was already planning on breaking up with you? You think I had some time to get used to the idea?" Skittery asked sarcastically. "I didn't plan this any more than you did."

"Okay, you deciding to talk about our relationship _now_, of all times? It's just making me despise you even more."

"I'm fucking-"

"Leave me alone, Skitts," Itey demanded tiredly before walking away. Fuck the office and fuck the principal. He was taking a day off; he couldn't deal with this shit all day.

* * *

Bumlets sat down next to David in fourth period. "So I'm going out with Dutchy now. Or … I guess I'm fake going out with him? Either way it's not going to end very well."

"You should try to think more optimistically," David advised quietly. "Some people believe that how you think can actually affect the reality around you. In other words, if you think about the worst thing that could happen then that'll probably be what happens."

"That's bullshit. They're called 'consequences' and it's an excellent idea to be thinking about _all_ of them," Bumlets argued harshly. "Dutchy sure as hell won't; I'm pretty sure I fucked him stupid … -er. And now Skittery seems to think I'll jump Itey. Jesus, I turned into a slut over night. How does something like that even happen?"

"I have no idea," David confessed. "But I do know that snapping at me won't help anything."

Bumlets grinned. "Finally standing up for yourself? Good for you. And I didn't snap at you."

"You totally snapped at me," David assured him. "But I understand … on a sympathetic level, anyway. How did you end up going out with Dutchy? Weren't you straight Friday?"

"I was. It was a big weekend," Bumlets answered, rolling his eyes and grinning. "Dutchy's got this big plan to get Specs to fall for him by getting him jealous. It's a completely fucked up plan that's doomed to fail, and I have no idea how I got wrapped up in it, but … here I am."

"And the part where you had sex with him? Was that just you going for realism?" David asked with a smile.

"That was me being awkward and uncomfortable and frustrated with him. It was a bad idea, and I'm still feeling pissed at myself for doing it. Dutchy didn't seem to mind, though, which is a good thing, I guess."

"Well, at least Dutchy isn't upset about it," David said, trying to look on the bright side. "And you know that regretting it isn't going to help anything. Just learn from your mistakes and next time don't offer sex to someone unless you actually feel like having sex with them."

"Yeah, well, now I'm involved in this stupid plan of Dutchy's because of my stupid guilt," Bumlets complained. "We're even fuck buddies now, and that's _definitely_ going to end badly if I know Dutchy."

"Fuck buddies? As in, you're going to be having sex with him on a regular basis? How did _that_ happen?" David asked, clearly shocked.

"I was still feeling guilty when he asked me; I probably would have agreed to anything," Bumlets said. "That, and … I mean … easy sex. Why the hell would I turn something like that down?"

"You already admitted that you think things are going to end badly."

"Well, yeah, but that's _now_," Bumlets retorted. "When I agreed, Dutchy was naked and in my bed and offering me sex. Who turns something like that down?"

"That still doesn't explain how you seemed to turn gay overnight."

"Hey, it confused me, too," Bumlets said. "Hell, it still does. Even now I get confused trying to figure it all out. I think I've basically decided to just call myself bisexual and then proceed to fuck anyone who offers … and isn't an ugly fat ass."

"Mm-hmm. Well, a label doesn't matter all that much," David conceded. "You can call yourself whatever you want; it doesn't change who you're actually attracted to. But maybe you should rethink the 'fuck anyone who offers' clause. It might not be the best idea."

"Yeah." Bumlets grinned. "I'll be sure to remember that for next time."

* * *

Spot came to his usual table to see Dutchy sitting on Bumlets' lap. They were busy making out and being generally disgusting. "What the fuck is this?" He was getting pretty damn tired of everyone in this group constantly making out with each other. Were they _trying_ to make him throw up?

Dutchy pulled away from Bumlets' mouth. "Why?" He grinned. "Jealous?"

Spot gave a silent snort. "Only of the people that didn't just see that," he replied before turning around. He wondered where Racetrack was.

Spot found him a little bit later sitting at a completely secluded table.

"You seriously don't have any friends, do you?" he asked as soon as he came up to him.

"What the hell do you want, Sean?" Racetrack asked. "I'm pretty sure one punch a day is enough, but if you want to try and push the boundaries-"

"You aren't going to get another punch in," Spot assured him confidently. "Come on."

"Come where?" Racetrack asked suspiciously, but already standing up.

"There are too many people making out where I usually eat so I'm going some place that doesn't make me as nauseous. You're coming with me," Spot explained before heading towards the exit.

"I'm coming with you?" Racetrack asked as he followed along. "And why am I coming with you?"

"I don't know," Spot admitted, going through the closest exit door. He held it open for Racetrack to grab. "You're the one following me."

"Is this your subtle way of asking me to punch you a second time? Because if that's what you want then I'm happy to do it. Hell, I'm happy to do it even if that's _not_ what you want."

"You're not going to punch me again," Spot assured him again. "Last time was luck and surprise. Now that I'm expecting it you aren't going to be able to get it done."

Racetrack shrugged. "At least I still have the bruise on your jaw to look at. That just fills me with all _sorts_ of happy feelings."

"Do _you_ want to be punched?" Spot asked, actually sounding confused. He walked over to his bike before hurling his only helmet at Racetrack.

"It wouldn't matter," Racetrack replied as he strapped on the helmet. "You punch like a girl, anyway."

"It'd probably be a good idea _not_ to provoke the violent gang leader," Spot advised as he straddled his bike.

"I like to live dangerously." Racetrack grinned as he got on the back of the bike and hugged Spot from behind.

"That's probably not the best of ideas either," Spot warned. He started up the engine and took off.

It was about two blocks into the trip when Racetrack remembered that he had promised himself never to get on a motorized vehicle with Spot again. He was seriously going to die. "Watch out for the truck!" he screamed as they swerved around it. "Can't you just drive like a _sane_ person?"

"Can't you go two seconds without screaming in my ear?" Spot shot back. "It's distracting. We wouldn't want me crashing now, would we?" he threatened. He sharply swerved the bike to the right unnecessarily in his attempt to scare Racetrack into shutting up.

"Okay, okay. Jesus. No killing me on this trip, alright?" Racetrack said as he pressed up against Spot more and tightened his grip on him.

"No, of course not. I'm saving that for next time."

"Okay, let's not joke about that sort of thing while my life's already flashing before my eyes," Racetrack suggested. "And for God's sake, _slow_ **down**."

"I thought I told you no backseat driving," Spot snapped as he took a sharp right and the bike seemed to almost end up on its side.

"No, you told me no screaming in your ear," Racetrack corrected. "Am I screaming anymore? No. See? I listened. And I was only screaming because last time you lied and said you couldn't hear me."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Spot asked with too much innocence in his voice.

"I said-!" Racetrack started to shout before realization hit him. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"

"Still can't hear you," Spot replied smugly. He eventually turned into a Waffle House and found an adequate parking space.

"Waffle House?" Racetrack asked as he took off his helmet. "Isn't that more breakfast oriented?"

"It's open twenty-four hours," Spot stated with a shrug. "And the whole restaurant is a smoking section, which is _always_ a good thing … That's excluding those two booths shoved into a corner just so they can argue that they aren't breaking any laws."

"Mhmm. You want to tell me why I'm here now?" Racetrack asked as he followed Spot into the restaurant.

"Haven't we already gone through this once? You're the one that followed me," Spot answered before walking into the Waffle House and picking out a booth.

"Yeah, but only because you told me to," Racetrack reminded him as he sat down on the booth bench across from Spot.

"You followed behind me like a puppy just because I suggested it?" Spot smirked. "That's the kind of utter devotion I can get behind. I've always liked dogs."

"Yeah, I can kind of tell," Racetrack scoffed.

"Drinks?" a waitress interrupted with evident boredom.

"Uh … water," Racetrack answered. He just now realized that he only had fifty cents in change with him (since his parents didn't trust him with money anymore).

"Coffee," Spot said.

"So why did you tell me to come with you?" Racetrack asked, getting back on track.

Spot shrugged uncaringly. "I wanted to see if you'd actually come."

"You're an ass," Racetrack said as he rolled his eyes.

"Coffee." The waitress sat the coffee in front of Spot. "Water," she announced next, putting the glass of water in front of Racetrack. "So can I assume that you're going to be ordering something?"

"White toast," Spot answered her.

"Er … I'm okay," Racetrack told her. "Thanks."

The waitress rolled her eyes before turning away. "Big spenders. God, I get all the great costumers, don't I?" she mumbled under her breath.

"Why did you drag me here if the only thing you're going to eat is toast? You realize we could have just stayed at school, right? That way I wouldn't've had to risk getting caught cutting school by my mother."

"I came here for the coffee, not the toast," Spot said. "Do I really have to explain why it's a good idea to eat something while consuming large quantities of caffeine?"

Racetrack rolled his eyes. "'Consuming large quantities'? That's such a nerdy thing to say."

"It's an intelligent thing to say," Spot corrected as he dumped creamer and sugar into his coffee.

"You know, I pictured you as someone who would drink their coffee black."

"Thinking about me, were you?" Spot smirked.

"Why do you have to be such a dick all the time?" Racetrack snapped.

"Toast," the waitress announced, dropping the toast in front of Spot and leaving right away.

"I'm pretty sure I already told you that I'm not looking for a friend," Spot replied as he picked up a piece of his toast. "Why the hell you keep expecting it is something too stupid for me to understand."

"Believe me, my _last_ concern is trying to become your friend. Do you not understand that there's a difference between being _civil_ and being someone's friend?"

"I don't even understand why you would expect _that_," Spot confessed. "You need something from me while I need absolutely _nothing_ from you, therefore I have the right to treat you however I please."

"Are you _serious_? Who actually thinks like that?"

"That's life, Racey-boy," Spot lectured before taking a bite of his toast.

"Not mine," Racetrack retorted. "And don't call me 'Racey-boy'." His stomach growled, immediately erasing any threat his voice had managed to convey.

Spot rolled his eyes before shoving his other piece of toast toward Racetrack.

Racetrack frowned at him, causing Spot to roll his eyes a second time.

"Eat," Spot snapped.

* * *

David unhappily sat next to Jack in his French class. Today was yet again a time for working on the French projects. He really wished that the teacher would just make everyone do them at home. He hated dealing with Jack.

"You know I still don't plan on doing this project, right? I mean, before, I just didn't want to do it, but now"– he smirked – "I'm actually curious to see how you handle getting an 'F' for the first time in your entire life."

"Really? Personally, I can't wait until you realize I'm not kidding about not doing the project and you fail the entire class," David replied. "And, just for the record, reminding me that I'm going to fail is _not_ the way to convince me to do this project."

"I don't even _want_ you to do the project anymore," Jack claimed. "I told you, 'I want to see what you do when you actually get a zero on this stupid project.' Do you think you'll cry?"

"How much do you think you'll hate taking French again next year?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Please. I don't even _need_ this class. You only need two language credits to graduate, after all. The only thing this 'F' will do is lower my grade point average and fuck if I care about that."

"So why are you taking this class in the first place?" David asked, clearly thinking that Jack was stupid for taking a class he didn't care about passing.

"'Cause Swifty signed up for it and we thought there was a good chance of being in the class together," Jack answered truthfully. "But he got stuck taking this class during third period."

David rolled his eyes. "Poor you."

"So what the hell are we supposed to do if we aren't going to work on the project?" Jack asked. He really didn't want to be bored for the entire forty-five minutes of class.

"_I'm_ going to be doing homework," David replied, already taking out a notebook from another class. "_You_ can do whatever the hell you want."

"Ah, come on, Mouth," Jack tried to persuade. "Can't you be even a little bit interesting?"

"For you? I think I'll pass," David told him. He flipped through his notebook before settling on a blank page.

Jack ran both hands through his hair, but kept silent. He didn't really know what to say; he hadn't had much experience dealing with Pissy David.

David appeared to have no trouble ignoring him. He was transfixed by whatever he was writing down. Every once in a while he would stop, looking confused as he chewed on the tip of his pen. Then his eyes would light up, and, looking smug, he would continue on with his writing.

Jack was content enough to watch him for some time, but eventually he got bored with the repetition. "So … what were you doing at Masson's party last weekend?" he asked, interrupting the silence that only seemed to surround him and David.

"It was nothing," David mumbled, still writing. "Just some stupid idea Specs talked me into."

"Hm. I was actually thinking that would get you to stop writing and start up a conversation."

"I don't want to converse with you, Jack … at all," David answered. He went back to chomping on his pen, but he wasn't looking at his notebook with as much concentration as before. "Can't you just shut up?"

"God, what is it with you all hating me so much?" Jack finally burst out. He suddenly felt frustrated with David and Skittery and Itey and Bumlets and Dutchy and Swifty and … and all of his old friends in general. Why couldn't they just lighten up? What had he done that was so wrong?

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you completely abandoned us," David snapped, finally ignoring whatever it was he was writing.

"You act as if I'm the only one," Jack retorted. "Everyone else separated into different groups, too."

"Yeah, but you were the first to go," David said, pointing at him with his pen.

"Actually, Crutchy was the first to leave, remember?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't his fault," David defended. "His dad got another job in Chicago. Crutchy _had_ to leave. What's _your_ excuse?"

"I had football," Jack told him. "If I hadn't've made friends with the other players then I would have never gotten enough support to become the first string quarterback."

"So you traded us up for football? Yeah, that makes me feel _a lot_ better," David replied. Even though he already knew it to be true, it still hurt.

"You know it was always my dream to play football," Jack tried to explain. "I couldn't have done that if I hadn't-"

"Sometimes friends are more important than dreams, Jack," David snapped.

Jack looked at his hand while trying his hardest to come up with a response. Fortunately, the bell rang before he had to admit that there really was no excuse for what he had done.

* * *

"Hey," Blink greeted as he sat next to Sean in seventh period art.

Spot just glared at him.

Blink rolled his eye. "I know, we're not friends; I'm not trying to be. Can't we just call a truce in art class since I have to sit next to you?"

"You don't _have_ to keep sitting next to me."

"Sean, out of all the people in here, who would you rather have to sit next to?" Blink asked.

Sean glared at him again.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Blink answered, taking the glare for a 'you'. "It might be best not to try and scare me off, then, yeah?"

"Fine," Sean reluctantly consented. "Truce."

"So … what are you planning on making?"

They were supposed to be using simple geometry shapes to create whatever inanimate object struck their fancy. Sean was pretty sure it had an official name, but he hadn't paid any attention when the teacher was yammering on about it.

"I don't suppose I could just spill paint on the canvas again," Sean replied, trying his best to be polite. An image of Racetrack in Waffle House telling him that there was a difference between treating people civilly and being a person's friend suddenly popped into his head.

"No, I think that was just a one time thing," Blink answered with a grin.

Sean shrugged. "I'll probably just make a rectangle out of six squares," he answered seriously.

Blink chuckled. "You're the worst art student ever. What are you even doing in this class?"

"Hell if I know," Spot admitted. "Complete retards must be handling the student schedules."

"I think it has more to do with the fact that you transferred in unexpectedly," Blink confessed. "But retards? I'm sure that's a factor in it, too."

* * *

"Where's Itey?" Bumlets asked as soon as he noticed that eighth period had started and Itey didn't seem to be sharing it with them. "Was he even at lunch?"

Dutchy frowned. "I don't think so."

"Er … I think I might have accidentally scared him off in third period by being a huge dick," Skittery confessed reluctantly.

"What the hell is with you guys today?" Dutchy asked from his spot on Bumlets' lap.

"You don't want to know," Bumlets spoke up. "You won't understand it either. I sure as hell didn't."

"More importantly: what the hell is with _you_ two today?" Skittery asked. "Do you know the meaning of 'unnatural'? Seriously, you two together… with each other … making out … ew. It's just completely sick and wrong."

"Hey! I love Bumlets and Bumlets loves me!"

Bumlets rolled his eyes. "Dutchy's trying to make Specs jealous by pretending to date me," he easily confessed. "You want to make fun of him with me when the whole thing fails miserably?"

"Like I could say 'no' to that. Do you not know me at all?" Skittery replied with a grin. "So the whole 'fucking thing' … What the hell is that? Please don't tell me you lied, because I'd be completely crushed if Bumlets ran back into the closet."

"The fucking's for real," Dutchy assured him with very evident pride.

"Ah, Bumlets: my little fairy princess," Skittery gushed.

"Hey! He's _my_ little fairy princess, thank you very much," Dutchy argued.

"I'm not _anyone's_ little fairy princess," Bumlets claimed. "And if either of you ever call me that again, you will be getting a punch in the face."

"You punch me in the face then I'm going to deny you sex," Dutchy threatened.

"Fine with me. I'll just go get it from Itey."

"Hey!" Dutchy and Skittery exclaimed at the same time, both looking extremely betrayed.

"Jesus Christ above, guys. I was kidding," Bumlets explained. "God, you sleep with one of your friends on a whim and suddenly you're a slut who'll take it from anybody. Have a little more faith in me, will ya?"

"Don't joke about fucking Itey," Skittery and Dutchy both ordered in sync.

"Why the hell is it that _Itey_ can joke about fucking _me_, but _I_ can't joke about fucking _Itey_? How is that fair?" Bumlets asked, not really that upset about it. "Fuck, you two are a little over-possessive."

"I am not," they denied at the same time yet again.

"Jesus Christ, stop _doing_ that!" Skittery finally ordered Dutchy. "It's _very_ creepy."

"It's your fault," Dutchy claimed.

"I think I fucked Dutchy so much, I turned him into Skittery," Bumlets mumbled loudly enough for his friends to hear, mock-worry present on his face.

"Ew," Skittery replied, pulling a disgusted face. "I don't want anything more in common with Dutchy than I already have. And I'm certainly not interested in trading places with him; I don't want to be the dumb one."

"Why the hell do people keep saying that today?" Dutchy burst out, offended, as Bumlets' shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Bumlets! You're supposed to be defending my honor!"

"I don't think I can defend your honor when the things you want me to rebuke are true."

"I can't believe you! I can't … You're an ass. I can't believe I slept with you. You're … you are the worst boyfriend _ever_," Dutchy complained, all the while leaning against him.

* * *

"This French project is fucking easy," Swifty exclaimed to Spot as they reached the smoking wall. "We just get an ass load of facts off the Internet, write it in an essay, and then we run it through an online translator to turn it into French."

Spot nodded before taking out a cigarette. "Pretty much. I'll get the information we need. You can do the essay and translation. That way I don't have to try so hard to tolerate your presence."

Swifty rolled his eyes. "It's nice to know how much you care."

"Hey, I don't have to like you. I'm doing this for Sling, not you. Was that not understood? I thought I made it pretty clear."

Swifty crossed his arms and shrugged. "I thought I would grow on you."

"Ah, well, you haven't. I doubt it's going to happen, so I would stop trying."

Swifty frowned. "You could at least make an effort. How hard would that be?"

"You're not worth the trouble."

"Jesus, you're not the nicest person in the world. Do you realize that? You're actually kind of a bastard."

Spot grinned. "Thanks."

Swifty turned a bit, dropping the conversation when he saw Skittery coming over with Blink.

Blink smiled as soon as he saw him. "Hey, Swifty."

"Blink. Hey." Swifty smiled back. "Did you hear about me fulfilling my reward for losing the bowling bet to Jack?"

"I heard about you going completely mental in front of the school building, if that's what you mean," Blink replied. "Everyone thinks you belong in a mental institution now."

"No shit?" Swifty laughed. "I hadn't heard. It _does_ explain all those strange looks people have been giving me since that day, though."

"Swifty _does_ belong in a mental institute," Skittery grumbled. "Or at the very least he belongs somewhere that isn't _here_."

"Chill out. I came here to talk to Sean, not you. Stop being such a jackass. You're just embarrassing yourself. Nobody else here has a problem with me being here."

Skittery turned to Sean and raised his eyebrows.

Sean shrugged. "I'm the one that brought him over here. Why the hell would _I_ care?"

"See?" Swifty smirked in triumph.

Sean turned to him. "Maybe I'm regretting it a little _now_, though."

"Hey, Blink," Bumlets greeted, coming up to the group with Dutchy in tow. He tried to hide his surprise at finding Blink anywhere near their smoking wall. "Er … Swifty," he added, deciding to try and be polite just because Blink seemed to like him and Skittery seemed to like Blink.

Swifty waved jerkily. "Yo."

"Bumlets," Blink greeted back, seemingly more at ease than Swifty. "What's up?"

Dutchy smiled and hugged Bumlets' arm. "We're going out now."

"I thought you weren't gay," Swifty confessed to Bumlets.

"I turned him," Dutchy bragged. "I'm extra sexy like that."

"Yeah, sexy like dog kibble," Skittery scoffed.

"But …" Dutchy pouted. "Dog kibble isn't sexy."

Spot gave a silent snort. "I think that's the point, you moron."

"Bumlets," Dutchy whined, tugging on his new boyfriend's arm a bit, "tell them I'm a lot sexier than dog kibble."

Bumlets tried to get out a cigarette with one arm. He eventually gave up and ripped his other arm away from Dutchy. "You're a lot sexier than dog kibble, babe." He lit up before throwing his arm around Dutchy's shoulders.

"Ew! Ew! Make it stop!" Skittery screamed, hunching over and covering his eyes.

Spot gave a disgusted face. "Agreed."

Swifty and Blink looked at each other and shrugged in confusion.

"Hey, what's up?" Specs asked as he came up to the group. "And what the hell are all these people doing here? I thought you guys tried to chase everyone off."

"Only you," Skittery replied. "Oh, and Swifty, but apparently he got invited here by Sean. What the hell's your excuse?"

"I came to get Dutchy," Specs answered.

"Oh, right," Dutchy said, remembering. "We were supposed to get some coffee, right? All right. I'll call you later, okay, Bumlets?"

"Sure, babe," Bumlets responded before pecking Dutchy on the lips and letting him go.

"That's so disturbing," Skittered remarked as Dutchy and Specs approached the parking lot.

"What is?" David asked, concern evident in his voice as he came up to the group.

"Dutchy and Bumlets going out," Skittery confessed. "Not only does it give me the creeps, it also makes me just a little bit nauseous. I'm starting to realize it might not be as fun a combination as people think."

"Who thinks that's a good combination?" Swifty asked skeptically.

"Hey, David," Blink piped up happily.

"Blink," David announced, his eyes lighting up right away. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good," Blink answered. "Actually-"

"Hey," Skittery interrupted, throwing an arm over Blink. "Blink's mine. You can have Specs."

"I thought Specs was Dutchy's," Bumlets spoke up.

"Oh, yeah," Skittery said. "Alright, you can have Bumlets, then."

"Wasn't Bumlets mine?" Sean interrupted, reminding everyone that he was still there. "I'm the one that was fucking him senseless in the janitor's closet."

"Right," Skittery replied, looking confused. "Damn, this is getting fucking hard with so many people."

"Hey, why don't I get anyone?" Swifty asked with mock hurt.

"You have Jack, remember?" Blink told him.

"Who has me?" Jack asked, coming up to the group.

"No one who wants you," Swifty responded as he crossed his arms.

"Oh, _snap_," Skittery shouted happily. "Jesus, Swifty, I think I might like you after all."

Swifty immediately smiled.

"Get the hell out of here, Jack," Bumlets demanded.

"Second," David spoke up as he put his hands on his hips.

Blink just stood by and looked at Jack in sympathy. He didn't really know why everyone seemed to hate Jack so much, and he certainly had no idea how to defuse the situation.

"Chill the fuck out," Sean finally ordered. "He came over here for me," he explained to everyone before turning to Jack. "I'm driving you home, then?"

Jack smiled. "Home. Yeah … But only if I can drive the motorcycle."

Spot rolled his eyes before smirking and tossing the keys to Jack. "I'll let you drive for a mile," he conceded. "But if you crash my baby I'm going to pound your head into the sidewalk until your skull gives in," he warned him.

"No worries," Jack shrugged as he started towards the bike. "I just won't wear a helmet. That way, if I crash the bike, I'll most likely be dead anyway."

They hadn't even taken two steps before Racetrack appeared. "Hey, Sp-er … Sean," he greeted before mumbling, "God, that's confusing."

"You want something?" Sean asked with a grin and a silent snort.

"I have to see Rambler again Sunday. You'll come, right? Because there's no way in hell I'm seeing him by myself," Racetrack explained.

Spot nodded. "I have to be there anyway. Wait in the lobby for me and don't talk to anyone. In fact, maybe you should bring a rape whistle with you."

"Okay, you're making fun of me; I get it," Racetrack replied, rolling his eyes but smiling a bit. "I'll see you there," he declared before turning away and seeing Blink for the first time. He immediately burst into a smile. "Blink. Hey. What's up? Where's Mush?"

"He left as soon as school ended," Blink explained. "Itey didn't show up for seventh period and he got worried. Are you sure it's okay for you to be talking to me? … And next to the smoking wall? What if your mom sees?"

Racetrack made a displeased sound in the back of his throat. "Good point," he consented. "I'll see you, okay? And tell Mush I said 'hi'."

"Definitely," Blink assured him even though by now he was quite some meters away.

"I should probably go," Swifty told everyone, already taking off toward his car. "Good luck on finding the information," he called over his shoulder to Sean.

"Yeah, I need to get going, too," David announced. "I'm still grounded, after all. I'll see you, Blink. Bye, Skittery. You want to walk me to my car, Bumlets?"

"Gay," Jack coughed out.

David just glared at him before taking Bumlets' hand and walking off.

"Go Davy," Bumlets congratulated in awe, his voice low enough so that only David could hear him.

"Come on, Jack," Spot ordered. "I have more things to do today than just you."

"Ew." Jack followed Spot to the bike. "Can we please keep the gay sex jokes to a zero?"

"Suck it up," Spot ordered.

Skittery watched them walk away before turning to Blink. "What's up?" he asked when he saw the frown of concentration on his face.

"I just … don't understand why Racetrack's still talking to Sean even though Racetrack knows that Sean knows that Mush told Itey, who told you, you know?" He frowned, a little confused by his own sentence. "I mean, Racetrack's … I know Racetrack's kind of reckless sometimes, but … he's just never seemed _this_ reckless before," Blink tried to explain.

Skittery's stomach dropped when he realized that it was his job to tell Racetrack about Sean and he had never gotten around to it.

_Oh, shit_, his mind supplied.

* * *

A/N: Alright, so, here's chapter seventeen (and the first, but hopefully far from last, chapter with my new and glorious Beta). Can I hear a 'yay'?

My next chapter may quite possibly be the present I got for my story's first year anniversary. That would mean I wouldn't post again until May 29. I _may _slide chapter eighteen in, but that's more of a distant hope than an actually plan.

And, finally, don't forget to review. If you do I'll let you have the pleasure of joining me in my happy dance.

'Til Next Time,  
Please Don't Hold Back

* * *


	18. Interlude: Let's Give It Up for Brooklyn

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Beta'ed By: 'Tis a Tale Worth Telling and Elke fa Talia (Oh, yeah, two beta's! I feel like a superstar. And no, you can't have either. I'm possessive.)

Notes: This story has been in progress for a year. I'm not sure if I should be excited about that or not, seeing as it's no where near done yet. At any rate, I decided to celebrate, so you, my fabulous readers will get to spend the day with the boys of Brooklyn. Leave the plot and drama of GBTA behind you; today it's not important.

Getting Back Together Again**  
Interlude: Let's Give It Up for Brooklyn  
**

Slingshot sat cross-legged on the couch while he kept an eye on his roommates. Bam was relaxing on his bunk while reading a sport's magazine, Stealth was curled up into a ball on his bed, Speed was quietly fussing over a new hole in Gadget's shirt, and Hunter was trying his best to annoy everyone by flicking around little pieces of paper.

It was only on very rare occasions that they were all able to take a break from work at the same time. Slingshot had been eager for it to happen for quite a while. Now that it was actually happening, though, he wondered what had possessed him to make such a wish. These morons were annoying; no wonder he spent all his free time with Spot.

Where was Spot, anyway? Shouldn't he have been busy trying to rescue his poor second-in-command? Obviously, Spot didn't appreciate him like he should.

Slingshot snorted to himself at that thought (as if Spot appreciated _anyone_), causing Bam to look up at him from his magazine.

"What the hell's up with the giggles?" Bam asked as he raised an eyebrow. "You get your hands on some weed and not tell me? That's kind of low. I'd share with you."

"You never share with me. You're a greedy mother fucker," Slingshot said. "And I'm not high."

Hunter flicked a small wad of paper at him. "You sure about that? I bet you stole it from my stash. Let's see your eyes."

Speed's head snapped up as he started paying attention to the conversation. He jerked his head towards Gadget. "Can we please stop talking about drugs in front of Gadget? He's just a little kid."

Gadget's jaw visibly clenched as he glared at Speed.

"Aw, pwoor wittle kid," Hunter mocked. "Does the wittle kid not want to hear about dwugsy-wugsy? Do they make the wittle kid saddy-waddy?"

"You sound like a fucking retard," Bam said before turning his attention back to his magazine.

Speed hugged Gadget's head to his chest, effectively covering his ears. "Could you please not use harsh language around Gadget? He doesn't need to be hearing that sort of thing all the time."

"Aw, pwoor wittle Gadgey," Hunter began again.

"Shut up, Hunt," Slingshot commanded right away. "You really do sound like a retard … not that it's really any different from how you normally sound."

"Tch. Better than being a fucking tightwad like _some_ people," Hunter mumbled back.

"Hunter! Watch your mouth around Gadget!" Speed said, once again trying to cover Gadget's ears.

Gadget shoved him away. "Would you stop treating me like I'm five years old? Jesus, I already know how to cuss, all right? I don't need lessons from Hunter."

"Everyone needs lessons from me; I'm awesome."

Slingshot picked an empty can off the floor and threw it at him. "Shut up, Hunter. You're a moron."

Bam looked up from his magazine again. "Shouldn't we be doing something more interesting than insulting each other? It's starting to get pretty old. Can't you guys think of something else to do?"

Hunter's eyes widened as a smile grew on his face. "Ooh! I know!" He jumped onto their kitchen table and started thrashing around. "Dance party!"

"There's not even any music, you dumb ass," Gadget said.

"Gadget! Watch your fucking mouth!" Speed scolded right away.

Slingshot tried to massage away an incoming headache. "Hunter, no dance party. Seriously, get off the table right now. What'd you do? You take some ecstasy when no one was looking?"

"I'm not on drugs," Hunter denied, even though he looked like he was suffering from a seizure.

"Yeah … I'm not believing that so much," Speed replied. "Your dancing kind of argues the case for you."

"I … have … a song … in my head … and it won't … leave," Hunter said. His hands were on the back of his head as he humped the air in front of him after each pause. "I thought … dancing … would … take care … of it … but it's not … working."

Speed put his hands over Gadget's eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you guys?" He jerked his head to the left, bringing everyone's attention to Gadget. "Impressionable _child_ over here."

"I'm not a fucking kid!" Gadget yelled as he jerked away from Speed's hand. "Stop saying that!"

"Don't cuss!" Speed shouted back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Gadget screamed.

"Hey!" Slingshot interrupted. "Both of you shut up before I start pouring concrete in your ears to fill your empty brains, and then throw you off the Bridge. And I swear to _God_ that if I hear one more thing about it while I'm trying to sleep, like _last_ night, I'm going strap you both down and-"

"Rape us?" Gadget asked with a smirk.

"God damn it! Rape is not something to joke about," Speed scolded.

"You know …" Hunter said, still humping nothing while his hands sat on the back of his head. "People … who say … 'Rape is not … something … to joke … about,' have … usually … been raped … before."

"Fuck you," Speed retorted uncaringly.

"I wasn't even going to say 'rape you'," Slingshot grumbled. "I was going to say 'literally sew both your mouths shut."

"The … rape thing's … better," Hunter told him. "God … damn it … someone … get this … fucking song … outta my … head. Start … singing … something … else."

"I'm not helping you," Speed replied, still slightly angry that Hunter had started his hip thrusts while Gadget was in the room.

Bam once again looked up from his magazine. "Enjoying the free show too much, eh?"

"This little light of mine," Speed immediately began singing, "I'm gonna let it shine. Oh, this little light of mine, I'm gonna light it shine. Er, something, something and something else. Hide it under a bush … or something. No! I'm gonna let it shine. Er … something else …"

"You suck at singing," Hunter claimed as he finally climbed off the table. "And the only reason it helped at all was because of the shock at hearing you sing that song. Don't you hate God?"

"I don't _hate_ god," Speed argued. "I'm an _atheist_. Big difference."

Gadget snorted. "'This Little Light of Mine'? Seriously?"

"Okay, not my fault! It was just the first song that popped into my head, all right? My elementary school years were spent going to a Catholic school; they brainwashed me," Speed claimed.

"Really? You only sang it because you felt you _had_ to? Are you _sure_?" Bam replied, smirking. "Because I'm pretty sure I've heard you singing it a few times in the shower."

"Fuck you," Speed shot back. "You're pretty like a girl … more so than even Spot."

"Mother fucker," Bam growled. He threw his magazine down before standing up and striding angrily toward Speed.

"Bam!" Spot yelled, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Would it kill you to go a week without trying to smash someone's head in? Stop giving all my people concussions."

Bam pointed at Speed. "He called me pretty."

"Sure he wasn't just trying to flirt with you?" Spot asked with a smirk.

Speed's eyes widened. "I was not!"

"I saw him staring at your ass yesterday," Gadget supplied helpfully.

"I was not!" Speed denied again.

"You were? Really?" Bam purred, stepping into Speed's personal space.

"Get the hell away from me, you whore," Speed demanded.

Bam punched him, and Hunter burst out laughing.

Spot rolled his eyes as Speed tumbled to the ground. "Bam. God damn it. What did I just say?"

"It's an automatic reaction!" Bam replied. "I can't help it!"

Gadget crossed his arms and pouted. "He deserved it, anyway," he grumbled. "Stupid ass … he's always treating me like a kid."

Slingshot rolled his eyes. "Why can't you guys check yourselves? Exercise some self-control."

"My nose! You fucking punched my nose." Speed was on the ground holding his face. "It's fucking bleeding, you cunt."

"Suck it up," Bam brushed off. "It's your own fault."

"Speed, clean up your face," Spot demanded. "As for the rest of you … Rambler's over, so I need you to make sure he doesn't try and kill everyone."

"Ah, fuck," Speed groaned, still on the floor. "Rambler's here and I'm fucking _bleeding_. He'll probably try and lick it off or something, the sick fuck."

"You should probably try and avoid him," Spot advised. He quickly turned to his right and tried his best not to jump in surprise when he saw Stealth suddenly standing next to him. Spot nodded at him before leaving, acknowledging the silent message that a private chat was in the near future.

Stealth glanced silently at his roommates, making eye contact with each one, before following after Spot.

An awkward silence filled the room until Hunter decided to break it. "God, how fucking creepy is he?"

"Not it!" Bam called out, touching his nose.

"Not it," Hunter and Gadget called at the same time, touching their noses as Slingshot followed close behind.

"Looks like you get stuck with Rambler, Sling," Hunter said happily.

* * *

Spot sat down on his bed and looked expectantly at Stealth.

Stealth bit his lip and stared into space for a bit. "Speed thinks you're pretty," he finally announced in a monotone.

Spot looked at him for a while before grinning slightly. "Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

Stealth stared at the floor as he switched from biting his lip to biting the inside of his cheek. He appeared to be extremely worried before he finally looked back at Sean with confidence. "No," he answered, then paused briefly. "Everyone was too loud and I couldn't hear the silence."

Spot nodded knowingly.

Stealth gave a small grin as he stared at a wall for a while. Finally, he released a quiet giggle. "It was angry at me while I was in my room because I wasn't listening properly. But now that it's with you, the silence is very happy. It likes you."

Spot smirked, taking the comment as a compliment. "Has it told you anything?"

Stealth cocked his head at Spot and stared at him for a while. "Nothing of great importance," he finally assured him.

Spot nodded his acceptance. "Keep asking," he demanded. "And make sure to keep alert about what the other gangs are doing. Hunter keeps 'accidentally' insulting people from the Bronx. I'm worried they'll eventually get tired of taking it from him and decide to attack us."

Stealth smiled and tilted his head to the side, prompting Spot to stop talking. It was several seconds later when Stealth finally spoke up. "He does it on purpose." Stealth was calm, and his tone confident. "He likes to get you mad at him. It turns him on."

Spot tried not to make a disgusted face, but he failed pretty miserably. "Ew. That's one of the types of things I'd really be happier not knowing about."

Stealth looked confused for some time before he nodded his head. "I didn't tell you to try and disgust you. I told you so you can be more careful," he tried to explain. "There's no reason to complicate things around here further."

"Complicate things?" Spot repeated. Stealth was pretty much the only person left on the planet that could confuse him without even trying to. "I'm starting to think you know something I don't."

Stealth looked to the side and bit the inside of his mouth again. He was quiet for quite awhile before he was finally ready to talk. "I know many things you don't," he replied finally, with no note of teasing or arrogance. "But I'm pretty sure Hunter is someone you know about more than me."

Spot smirked. "I have to go down to the lobby and make sure Rambler hasn't killed anyone yet. You can stay here so you can hear the silence properly." With anyone else Spot would have left right then, but with Stealth he waited by the door just in case the other boy decided there was something else to tell him.

Stealth immediately started staring out into space again. After what was probably a full minute, he turned to Spot. "The silence doesn't like Rambler. It thinks he's annoying. It says he's talking about you."

Spot nodded. "Better go stop him, then, shouldn't I? Wouldn't want him telling everyone about my dearest older brother."

* * *

Rambler grinned too widely for comfort as soon as he finally ran into someone he recognized. "Slingshot," he greeted with wide eyes. "I've missed you. No one bleeds quite like you do."

Slingshot shuddered slightly. This guy really fucking freaked him out. "You've actually made mention of that before. And I … er … thank … you … I guess. Why the hell are you over here?"

Rambler lightly ran his fingernail from Slingshot's eye to his mouth in a slightly curved motion. "You'd look awesome with a cut _right_ there," Rambler complimented dreamily, still wearing the same too-big smile.

Slingshot swallowed loudly. "I'm pretty sure you've mentioned that before, too. Please stop now."

Rambler put his hands on Slingshot's shoulders and slowly backed him against a wall. He leaned over a bit to whisper in his ear. "You look _so_ good when you bleed."

Slingshot shuddered again. "Great. That's just awesome," he replied with forced calm. "Hey, if you get off of me right now and take six steps back, I'll bleed just for you."

"Really?" Rambler immediately backed off. He started bouncing a little in excitement. "Do you need a knife or anything? Because I have a knife. Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? I have more than one knife, in fact. I like knives. They're so much better than guns. Of course they are. Everyone knows that. What type of barbarian uses a gun? Knives are so much better. You get blood on your hands when you use a knife. Of course you would. Why wouldn't you? Who wouldn't want that? Well? Aren't you going to answer?"

"Er … no one wouldn't want that," Slingshot said, trying to press himself into the wall. "I mean … obviously. Blood is just so … great."

Rambler beamed. "I know everything about blood," he bragged. "Did you know a lot of blood is manufactured in the bone marrow? I've never seen bone marrow, but I really want to. Just think about how bloody it would be. I just want to bite into it. Do you think it'd be chewy?"

"Oh, definitely," Slingshot answered shakily. "Bone marrow … yum. That's what I want for dinner."

Rambler looked at him with his head tilted for a minute before scrunching up his face. "You can't eat bone marrow for dinner," he said, looking at him as if he thought Slingshot was mentally challenged. "I doubt it would be filling at all."

"Well … yeah, of course," Slingshot agreed hurriedly. "But if you eat enough of it I'm sure … it would … uh … be enough … or something."

Rambler advanced on him again.

"Didn't I tell you to take six steps back?" Slingshot asked. "Your creepiness is very distracting."

"I'd like to eat _your_ bone marrow," Rambler said, ignoring Slingshot's demands to get away from him. He licked his top lip with the tip of his tongue. "I bet it's tasty."

"Uh … no … it's quite … stringy and stuff … and … not bloody at all … Mine's … um … all dry and stuff," Slingshot replied, trying to burrow into the wall he was leaning against. "And, uh … other bad, disgusting things. I'm pretty sure it'll make you … uh … throw up and whatnot and …"

"I _love_ throwing up," Rambler purred, pressing up against the other man.

"Right, of course. Silly me for thinking you wouldn't," Slingshot answered hurriedly. He spotted his boss standing at the top of the stairs out of the corner of his eye, and immediately turned toward him with wide eyes. As Rambler caressed his face, Slingshot shouted, "Spot! It's not working! And Rambler's all over me and it's even creepier than you smiling!"

"Spot? Where?" Rambler asked, immediately backing off and looking around excitedly. "Is he here? Can I see him? Can I talk to him? He doesn't like me, you know. Of course he doesn't. Why would he? He thinks I killed-"

"Rambler," Spot interrupted, coming down the stairs and into the lobby. "What've I told you about telling people that story? No one cares."

"You care about it, though, right?" Rambler asked, bouncing slightly on the tips of his toes. "Of course you do. Why wouldn't you? He was your-"

"You want to tell me why you're here?" Spot interrupted again. "You know I don't like looking at you."

"That guy you told me to look after … you remember? Of course you do. Why wouldn't you? He left. He also broke my door. My boss got mad. He doesn't like it when people break my door. I didn't know that before, but he seemed pretty upset when he saw it. He says I have to pay to have it fixed. Except I don't think I should because I wasn't the one who broke it. I told him that, but I don't think he cared."

"I'm not giving you money," Spot replied, crossing his arms. "It's your fault for freaking him out. I told you to keep your psychotic tendencies to yourself."

"Slingshot says he's going to bleed just for me," Rambler bragged, changing the subject. "He has delicious blood."

"I do not," Slingshot argued. "It's gross and not the right shade of red. Yeah. Please don't-"

"You said you'd bleed for me," Rambler snapped, quite angry as his smile dropped. "Were you lying? You mother fucking cunt. I'm going to rip your skin off and let your blood wash over me, whether you want me to or not."

"Rambler! If you don't have anything important to tell me then get the hell out of here," Spot ordered. "Actually, get the hell out of here even if you _do_ have something important to tell me. Your face is starting to annoy me."

* * *

Hunter, Bam, Gadget, and Speed all sat around their kitchen table playing Bullshit, unable to think of anything better to do with themselves. It was a pretty sad fact, but a fact nonetheless.

"Two threes," Hunter claimed proudly, setting two cards on top of the pile.

"Bullshit," Bam said.

Hunter growled as he added the small pile to his hand.

"Have you noticed how Hunter's left eye always gets this tic when he's bullshitting?" Bam pointed out calmly.

"Yes, Bam, we all fucking noticed what a bad liar I am," Hunter snapped. "You know in most places the inability to lie is considered a _good_ thing?"

"You don't have the _inability_ to lie," Speed said. "You just have the inability to lie _well_. And that little quirk means you're dumb no matter _where_ you go."

"You just got punched in the face," Hunter reminded him. "That tops anything you have to say today."

"One four," Gadget announced flippantly. "Who the hell thought it was a good idea to play Bullshit? This is so fucking boring."

"Language," Speed reminded him.

"I'm not _four_," Gadget shot back. "Stop fucking treating me like I am."

"I'm not treating you like a four-year-old," Speed claimed. "Four-year-olds know they aren't _supposed_ to cuss."

"Just because you're my cousin doesn't mean you can tell me what to do," Gadget argued.

"You're my responsibility," Speed told him. "I need to keep you _slightly_ moral, at least. What would your parents say if-"

"Fuck my parents," Gadget replied stubbornly.

"Gadget!" Speed snapped, shocked.

Bam rolled his eyes. "Relatives should _not_ be in the same gang together," he grumbled. "My turn, right?" He threw a card on the pile in the center of the table. "One five."

"Bullshit," Hunter replied right away. "I have all the fives, bitch."

Bam immediately picked up the small pile.

"You're a sucky player who keeps having to pick up the pile. It's not something you should be bragging about," Speed told him.

"Again, I say, 'You got punched in the face'," Hunter shot back.

Speed thought back to what had led to the punch in the first place. "For the record: I haven't ever stared at your ass, Bam." He carelessly flung two cards onto the table. "Two sixes."

"You've totally stared at my ass," Bam argued. "It's okay, though. I have a great ass."

"And you always wear really tight pants," Hunter interrupted before chucking four cards into the pile. "Four sevens."

"Do I?" Bam asked, looking down at his pants. "This is just how tight I've always worn them. It's gotten comfortable."

"I don't see how pants that tight could ever be comfortable," Gadget confessed. "I don't even see how you could find pants that are tight on you; you're so skinny." He threw two cards onto the pile. "Two nines."

"What are you? My mother?" Bam scoffed uncaringly.

"We're on eights, not nines, stupid," Speed pointed out to Gadget.

"Are we? Okay, two eights, then," Gadget decided, not making a move to switch out his cards.

"Bullshit," Hunter called out.

"Nope," Gadget stated proudly as he flipped up his cards to reveal two eights. "Pick up the pile, bitch."

"_Language_," Speed reminded him tiredly.

"_Fuck_ _**you**_," Gadget replied.

"Both of you shut the hell up. You're annoying," Bam demanded before picking a card out of his hand. "One nine."

"This is boring," Gadget whined. "Can we do something else?"

"Shut up," Speed ordered, looking at the only card left in his hand. "I'm about to win."

"Okay, I quit," Hunter decided, knowing he was probably going to lose anyway and wanting to drag Speed down with him.

"That means you have tens instead of jacks," Hunter pointed out to Speed.

"Fine. One ten," Speed said with a pout as he threw his only card into the pile.

"Bullshit," Gadget called out, flinging the pile toward his cousin. He quickly put a card down on the table. "One jack."

"Three queens, and guess what? I just kicked all your asses," Bam said, holding up his hands to show everyone he no longer had any cards.

"Does this mean we can do something else now?" Gadget asked right away, flinging the rest of his cards onto the table.

Bam sighed. "I really have no idea what to do. I don't think all of us have ever had a day off together before."

Hunter's eyes immediately brightened and he perked up a bit. "You want to have a dance party?"

"I think I've had enough of your dancing today, thanks," Speed wrote off quickly.

"You: punched in the face," Hunter replied as he crossed his arms.

"You people are pathetic," Gadget told them before getting up and heading towards the door. "I'm going to go and hang out with people less boring than you guys."

"I'm … hell, I'm probably going to let myself work. I'm sure there's at least one car that can stand fixing," Speed said before leaving.

"Dance party?" Hunter asked, still as eager as before.

"I refuse to watch you dance," Bam declared, making his way over to his bottom bunk and picking up the magazine he had been reading earlier.

* * *

"I don't think I really like being the damsel in distress," Slingshot confessed as he laid next to Spot on the bed. "I do like the sex afterwards, though. Very nice. Very … tender."

"Tender?" Spot asked, looking surprised and slightly offended. He tilted his head in order to look at Slingshot.

Slingshot laughed. "Relax; I'm kidding. It wasn't tender at all. It was rough and ferocious, just like you."

"Are you trying to patronize me?"

"No," Slingshot assured him. "It was rough. It hurt like hell … but I think that was a fault in preparation … meaning you did not practice it … at all."

"I used lube."

"Yeah, but you pretty much skipped out on the whole stretching thing," Slingshot pointed out. "Have you ever been fucked in the ass without bothering with the stretching? It fucking hurts."

"I've never been fucked in the ass," Spot said, shrugging.

"Oh, right … because that's too gay for you. I should have remembered. But on to more important things…" Slingshot subdued his eagerness to ask, "Can we cuddle?"

"Are you asking to cuddle or spoon?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, because I'm not doing either."

"Come on! You owe me! You made my ass hurt. I'm going to be walking funny tomorrow. And everyone's going to know _why_, which means everyone's going to be making fun of me."

Spot rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. Just stop _whining_, for God's sake."

"Great!" Slingshot replied, perking up. He immediately shoved Spot onto his side and mashed him up against his chest. "Oh, I was talking about spooning, by the way."

"Just don't breathe on my neck this time," Spot growled.

"When have I ever breathed on your neck?"

"_Now_. You're breathing on my neck right now." Spot tried to fling his arms out to get away. "Get the hell off of me."

"_Nnnoooo_," Slingshot whined, hugging Spot closer to his chest. "Why can't we ever do something _I_ want to do?"

"Because everything that _you_ want to do is completely gay," Spot said. "Now get the fuck off of me. You're getting way too clingy, and you aren't taking a nap in my bed."

"Fine," Slingshot finally, pouting. He roughly shoved off of Spot and left, making sure to slam the door on his way out.

* * *

"Spot's a dick," Slingshot complained as he stretched out on the couch in his room. He glanced at Hunter and then at Bam, happy that the room had gotten a little less hectic. "Apparently I can't sleep in his bed even though I fuck him. God, he makes me feel like such a whore."

"Yeah, well, that's probably because you are," Hunter said. He handed Slingshot a beer before opening one of his own. "Ha, you're Spot's dirty little whore."

Bam frowned, roughly and needlessly shoving past Hunter on his way to the door, spilling Hunter's beer in the process.

"Oi!" Hunter shouted, his shirt now wet. "God damn it, what the fuck is with you? Are you just feeling like a prick today or something? Pull the stick out of your ass."

Bam's only response was to slam the door behind him.

"Holy shit, what the _fuck_ is up his ass? Seriously," Hunter grumbled. He sat down next to Slingshot on the couch, ignoring the great splatter of beer soaking his shirt.

Slingshot just shrugged uncaringly before opening his beer.

"That fucking car's possessed!" Speed announced to everyone when he came in with motor oil covering every other inch of him.

"You talking about that black jeep?" Slingshot asked. "Hasn't it been broken down for, like, a couple of months now? I thought you had given up on it."

"_She_ was the only car that still needed to be worked on … which was both gratifying and annoying at the same time," Speed told Hunter and Slingshot. He went over to the paint-splattered stereo in the corner and turned it on. The speakers fizzled (a sure sign that they couldn't handle the volume they were usually forced to give), but the sound came out fairly well.

Slingshot frowned slightly, less than pleased at the techno music pumping out of the stereo speakers. "Is it really necessary to be listening to-"

"We've gone over this _so_ many times," Speed complained. "You're the only one in this room that doesn't like techno … Except maybe Stealth, because he leaves the room … but he does that whenever we play anything, so I get the feeling he doesn't like music in general. He's such a weird guy." His brow furrowed for a few seconds. "Uh … what was I saying? Oh, right. So anyway, since we can't agree on any other type of music, you're just going to have to suck it up."

"This makes me want to dance," Hunter happily announced. He shoved his beer at Slingshot to hold as he jumped up from the couch and started his hip thrusts yet again.

"Turn it off!" Slingshot urgently demanded.

"Yes, sir," Speed obeyed just as quickly, switching the stereo off as fast as humanly possible.

"Oooh," Hunter whined as he cut off his hip thrusts. "I was just starting to get my jam on."

"Yeah." Slingshot sighed. "We saw."

"And it was _not_ pretty," Speed said.

"Okay, no music, then," Slingshot decided. "Not if Hunter's going to be … doing _that_. Whatever happened to combining what money we had and going out to buy a television?"

"I lost all my money in poker," Hunter answered. "How much do you have?"

"Not a lot," Slingshot replied. "I spent most of it on Spot's birthday present."

Speed shifted nervously as both Slingshot and Hunter turned to him. "I … uh … spent it … on … um … a … uh … Spot made me pay to have this car I was working on repaired because I … kind of … broke it … more … when I was trying to fix it," he confessed.

"Ha! You suck at your job!" Hunter laughed, splashing even more beer all over himself in his hysterical glee.

"Hey! My job is transportation! Technically, I shouldn't even be near the car's engine."

"And you should really start practicing that evasion," Gadget said as he walked into his room. He was covered in mud, and a few bruises were scattered across his face. "Repairing things is _my_ department, after all. It's annoying when people see a fucking idiot doing your job. It completely takes away the importance of my job." He walked farther into the room, and tried to sidestep his cousin.

"Wait a fucking second there, Princess," Speed demanded. He caught hold of Gadget's arm. "Okay, first: _language_. Seriously, when the fuck are you going to get that through your head? No _cussing_. Second: I am not an idiot. I was helping you, you gigantically incredible bitch. Third: don't come tracking mud in here. I'm the one that's going to end up cleaning it, and that really pisses me off. Fourth: where the hell did you get those bruises? Did someone hit you? Give me their name right now, and I'll go kick their ass so hard they'll be puking their crap."

Gadget rolled his eyes as he ripped his arm away. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and I was playing football, you complete jackass. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you trying to be my father. I already had one of those, and it worked out pretty badly. Leave me alone, you kike."

Speed scrunched up his nose. "Since when did I become Jewish?"

"That was actually my subtle way of telling you that your nose is swelling up pretty bad. Bam sure can punch, huh?" Gadget beamed.

Hunter burst out laughing, managing to get even more beer on himself as his whole body shook.

Speed's hand flew to his nose as his eyes widened. "It's swelling? Shit!"

"Ah, man." Hunter sighed, finally stopping his laughter and wiping a tear from his eye. "I love you guys."

"Can we listen to some country music?" Slingshot asked, his eyes brightening.

"Hell, no!" Hunter, Speed, and Gadget shouted in unison.

* * *

Bam stormed into Spot's room and found him lying comfortably under the covers of his bed. "What the hell is Slingshot to you?"

"Are you trying to be Slingshot's dad?" Spot asked calmly. "Never been very into role-playing. Get the hell out."

"You're acting like he's your whore," Bam claimed, ignoring his boss' previous statement.

"Is that what this is about? You're projecting?" Spot replied. "God damn it. When the hell will you stop going on about how you were a hustler. This is getting fucking ridiculous. Look, if we're going to have some stupid heart-to-heart, then I'm going to need my pants."

Bam silently scooped up the pants from the floor while walking over to Spot. He sat on the side of the bed and handed the clothes over. Spot immediately slipped on his pants under the covers.

"Fuck, Bam. I didn't pick you up off the street because you were a whore," Spot told him. "If that was the reason then I would have gotten someone a lot less pissy."

"Stop talking about us like we're objects!"

"There is no _'we'_, you complete moron. If you haven't noticed, you're no longer a hooker," Spot said. "And when people call you pretty? That's a fucking compliment, you cunt. It was back when you were hustling, and it is now. No one's fucking mocking you."

"What am I to you, then – if I'm not just some whore?" Bam asked skeptically.

"God, Jesus, fuck. All your self-confidence is in your looks, but you get livid if anyone compliments you on them," Spot complained. "What the hell is wrong with you? And why the hell would I go out of my way to get myself a whore, but never even attempt to sleep with them? That's just stupid."

"Answer the question," Bam ordered. "Or can't you?"

"I picked you out of the crowd because I saw in you what I saw in everyone else I picked out: desperation. The thing all you idiots have in common is that when I found you, you all would have done anything I told you if it meant a stable environment," Spot explained honestly.

"And you were looking for a person like that among all the whores in town because…?" Bam asked angrily.

"Because those people are desperate enough for money to whore themselves out! What the hell do you want from me? Get the fuck over yourself. There's nothing different about you. And I certainly wouldn't have made you head of weaponry just because I wanted to fuck you. Don't you fucking dare disrespect me by thinking that," Spot ranted.

"And Slingshot? What's he to you then?"

"Jesus. You think I recruited _Slingshot_ so I could fuck him? You really think I have to go through all that trouble just to fuck someone? God, if I wanted to get laid so bad I'd just walk into a gay bar topless," Spot told him.

"So … what's Slingshot to you?" Bam asked, seemingly calming down.

"He's my second-in-command," Spot answered. "The fucking's a side thing. He knows that, and he also knows that it won't affect the way I treat him the rest of the time, whether that's in a positive or negative sense."

"Yeah. Okay. Sorry," Bam mumbled quietly as he looked down at his feet.

"You gotta stop with all this paranoid crap," Spot ordered. "No one here even knows you used to be a whore besides me, and _I'm_ certainly not going to judge you for it."

Bam looked at his boss suspiciously. "Why did you stress the 'I'm'?"

"Hm?" Spot quirked up an eyebrow.

"You stressed the 'I'm'. Why do you seem so certain that _you're_ going to judge me less than other people in the gang?" Bam asked with a frown as he tried to figure it out.

"Huh. That _was_ a little weird, wasn't it?" Spot replied nonchalantly.

"Were you a …" Bam started to ask, amazed, before he decided that it wasn't possible. "Mm, know what? Never mind. I'll … uh … get out of your hair and stuff."

Spot smirked at him as he left.

* * *

"You finally get that stick out of your ass?" Hunter asked from beside Slingshot as Bam came back into the room.

Bam sat beside Hunter on one arm of the couch. "A bit, yeah. Spot helped."

Hunter immediately cringed away. "Ew! I don't want to hear about your sex life, okay?"

"Is my nose swelling?" Speed asked as he came out of their bathroom, not moving his hand off his nose. "It's not, is it? God damn, Bam, I am going to kill you. You can't just make a guy's nose swell up like that."

Bam flicked his head back to get the hair out of his face. "Yeah, well, maybe if you stop looking at fellow guys' asses, being punched in the face wouldn't be a problem."

"Hey! If I remember correctly, you were _flattered_ to find out I look at your ass. You even starting coming on to me."

"So, then you admit that you _have_ stared at my ass? Because while we were playing Bullshit you totally denied it." Bam grinned. "It's fine, though. I knew you were lying. I mean, when you're forced to live in the same room as someone for a few years, you learn a lot about them. Hell, I didn't even need the few years; I knew you were hot for me since the very beginning. It's nothing to be-"

Speed took a swing at him.

"Oh!" Hunter immediately brightened as Speed's fist made contact with Bam's face. He twisted around to see Bam on the floor, then broke out into a grin and tried his best to keep from laughing. He failed. "You guys are my best friends … _ever_. Oh, my God."

"Speed!" Gadget shouted from where he was sitting on his bed. "Jesus Christ, dude."

Bam spit out some blood from his mouth, not exactly sure where it had come from. Had he bit his tongue? Hm, quite possibly. His teeth hurt. Oh, fuck, did he lose one of his teeth? His eyes widened in panic as he felt around for any gaps in his mouth.

"Bam," Spot said, bringing everyone's attention to him. "What the hell are you doing bleeding on my floor? You didn't call anyone 'pretty', did you?"

Bam picked himself up off the floor, satisfied that all his teeth were where they belonged. He stood up straight as he turned to face Spot. "I implied Speed was gay … sir. I also told him that he was hot for me."

"And I assume that it's Speed who punched you, and not his boyfriend."

"Hey!"

"Shut the hell up, Speed," Spot demanded. "God, you morons give me a headache."

"You want a beer?" Slingshot offered, lifting up an unopened beer can.

Spot raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Trying to get me drunk?"

"Sex orgy?" Gadget asked with a small smile. "Sweet."

Speed's eyes widened. "Gadget! You … you're not … you don't even know what sex _is_. That's what you tell your parents if they ever ask, got it?"

Gadget rolled his eyes. "Duh. How stupid do you think I am?"

"Can we have a dance party now?" Hunter asked.

"Hell no," Spot answered before anyone else could. "I swear to God, if I _ever_ see you dancing, I will personally make sure that you never have children. Hell, I'll personally make sure you never have sex again."

"Alright, fine, no dance parties while you're around," Hunter said.

"No dance parties while I'm in the _state_."

"But you never leave the state. Hell, you hardly ever leave the city."

Spot shrugged at Hunter. "Guess you're never going to have a dance party, then, huh?"

"You suck hardcore." Hunter pouted as he crossed his arms.

"Can we please stop talking about dance parties?" Slingshot asked, rolling his eyes. "God, seriously, what's with you and dance parties today?"

Hunter continued to pout. "I just like dance parties is all."

"Tch," Slingshot replied. "Well, give it a rest, all right? It's getting damn annoying."

"What's annoying is you bitching about Spot all the time," Hunter said.

Spot raised an eyebrow. "Bitching about me?"

Slingshot's eyes widened. "No! Of course not! Never. Hunter's just being a jackass like usual."

"Yeah. Whatever," Spot replied stoically as he headed towards the door with his beer. As soon as he opened the door he turned back around to face everyone. "Next time I come in, could you guys make sure that no one is getting punched?"

"Sir, yes, sir," Gadget replied happily as he fired off a salute.

"Got it, Bossman," Speed answered with a grin.

"You take all the fun away," Hunter said, falling into a pout yet again.

"I make no guarantees," Bam replied before popping his knuckles.

Slingshot sighed. "I'll make sure to maintain order, sir."

Spot rolled his eyes at his subordinates. "Just make sure it's Hunter getting punched next time," he demanded before leaving.

"Hey!" Hunter shouted at the now-closed door.

* * *

A/N:

How'd you like it? Was it a good break from exams for you kids? Please review. If enough people like it I might put in another interlude ... but if it was just annoying then I won't bother.

Also, thank you for being patient; I know it took awhile for me to post. The break was nice, but I plan on getting back to work on it.


	19. Fights and Crushes

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Beta'ed By: 'Tis a Tale Worth Telling and Elke fa Talia (and 'thanks' doesn't even begin to cover how much I appreciate it)

Summary of Chapter 17:  
-Dutchy told his parents that Bumlets was his boyfriend  
-Bumlets and Dutchy decide to look for jobs together  
-Skittery and Itey tease Mush and Blink about liking each other  
-Jack stays the night at Spot's and gets declared his bitch  
-Bumlets and Dutchy announce to Itey and Skittery that they're going out  
-Racetrack punches Spot, and Spot doesn't hesitate to punch him back  
-Skittery tells Bumlets that Spot's a gang leader  
-Skittery explains his new situation with Itey to Bumlets  
-Itey and Skittery have a fight, and Itey decides to skip the rest of the school day  
-Bumlets confides in David about what to do about Dutchy  
-Spot drags Racetrack off school grounds for lunch  
-David yells at Jack for abandoning the old gang back in freshman year  
-Bumlets reveals Dutchy's plan to make Specs jealous to Skittery  
-David drags Bumlets to his car after school  
-Skittery realizes he never told Racetrack that he and Itey know about Spot's profession and that Spot knows they know

Getting Back Together Again  
**XVIII: Fights and Crushes**

Bumlets frowned as he pulled his hand out of David's. "So … is there a reason you dragged me to your car?" His eyes brightened and he smirked a bit. "Are you getting jealous of me and Dutchy? Davy, you know I have plenty of love to go around, and I'm always open to threesomes, but … I just couldn't tear you away from Specs like that. I'm sorry. You know I would in a second if Specs and I weren't such good friends, though, right?"

David grinned back. "Sadly enough, I think the most ludicrous part of your little speech was calling Specs your friend. Seriously, I know why _I_ hate him so much, but that doesn't explain why _you_ seem to hate him with such a passion as well."

"Since when did the fact that you hate him become not enough of a reason? You know that whole 'the enemy of my friend is my enemy' … or something?" Bumlets shrugged. "Also, the fact that he's such an ass makes not liking him _quite_ easy."

David bit the inside of his cheek and frowned at his feet for a while. He looked up at Bumlets before continuing, but didn't try to suppress his frown. "I don't want you to hate anyone because of me, Bumlets. I told you that I still want to be friends with Specs, and when this whole thing finally passes I really hope we will be. When we are … friends again, that is … I want you two to be friends, too. That'll never happen if you treat him like crap whenever you see him; Specs holds grudges."

"Davy, come on. You can't ask me to become friends with _Specs_. He's an asshole. I mean, even when he was actually my friend I could hardly stand him. Believe me; I don't hate him just because of you."

"You got along with him before, though, right? Why can't you just try again?"

Bumlets slumped slightly. "Why do I get all the hard jobs? 'Go out with Dutchy', 'Be nice to Specs' … Jesus, what's next? I'll … I'll try, okay? But I expect to get my ass kissed _daily_ for this, got it?"

David smiled before quickly nodding. "Thanks, Bumlets. Really, you have no idea how much it means to me."

Bumlets rolled his eyes even while preening under the gratitude. "Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing. Was that all you dragged me off for? Can I go now?" he asked, already starting to turn away.

David caught his arm, obstructing his getaway. "Er … actually … that's not really why I made you walk me to my car … like … at all."

Bumlets raised his eyebrows before taking a step or two closer to David. "Oh. Um, okay. So … uh … what did you want to tell me? … Or … talk to me about? … Or … whatever …"

"I was actually worried about Itey … and Skittery …" David said. "I haven't seen Itey all day, not even at lunch. And Skittery's been acting … uh … I don't really know how to explain it … but … he's been acting … off … I guess."

Bumlets shrugged it off. "Skittery's always been a little 'off', and Itey skips all the time. It's nothing to worry about, I swear."

David crossed his arms and frowned. "How could you expect me to actually believe that? Tell me what's wrong. Do you not trust me?"

"God, no. Look, it really is nothing to worry about, okay? I just … don't want you to get involved. You're dealing with enough shit right now, and Skittery and Itey have their own fucked up way of working things out. It's best if you just kept out of it, and I know you won't if you know what's going on with them." Bumlets scrunched up his eyebrows. "Well, that, and … I don't really know what's going on either, at least … not completely. No one ever really does with those two; they're in their own universe."

"I asked because I want to help. I can decide for myself what I want to do _after_ you tell me," David replied. "And I do _not_ have a lot to deal with."

Bumlets raised his eyebrows at him.

"Okay, so I do have a lot to deal with." David sighed. "But everything I have to deal … I can't really deal with. I mean, Specs needs time to adjust to everything … I think. I'm not ready to tell my parents I'm gay yet, which is completely crazy. You know, before Specs freaked out I was fine with my sexual preference. Now I'm just freaking out over it all the time. I wasn't going to tell anyone because I didn't think it was any of their business. Now I decided I want people to know and I'm too afraid to do it. The whole thing really sucks."

"You're rambling again, David."

"Oh, right. I guess I kind of am. The point I'm trying to make is that I can't fix any of the stuff I have to deal with just yet. Everyone needs some time, so … I might as well help Skitts and Itey in the meantime, right?"

"They need time, too, Davy. Trust me, you don't want to get involved. Their … relationship … whatever the hell it is … it's complicated … and has absolutely no logic to it whatsoever … You won't be able to help."

David crossed his arms again. "I still want to know what's going on. Look, I know I can't make everything perfect for them, but I'd like to help where I can. And … and helping other people helps distract me from _my_ problems, so, really, it's good all around."

"Because of you, I'm starting to make it seem like a big deal, and it's not," Bumlets complained.

"So then just tell me."

"But now it'll seem really anticlimactic."

"Bumlets."

"Look, ask Skittery or Itey, okay? I'm not a gossip queen" – he frowned at himself – "or any other type of queen … just saying for clarification's sake. Anyway, I don't think they want too many people knowing. They want things normal again, and the more people know about it, the less normal it'll seem."

David played with his fingers, looking slightly hurt. "Yeah, okay. I guess I'll talk to Skittery tomorrow, then."

"It's no offense to you. You know that, right? I …" Bumlets furrowed his brow. "Don't you need to be home? … Like, now? You're still grounded, right? You shouldn't get into any more trouble."

David smiled. "Actually, you probably won't believe this, but Sarah's covering for me. I talked to her right after school. She said she'd rush home and drag Mom and Dad out of the house for a shopping spree. That way I can say I came home on time, but no one was home.

"Yeah? That's … weird."

"I talked to her about everything the other day. She was understanding and … it was like the old days, you know?" His smile softened a bit. "It was … really nice … totally unexpected, but really nice all the same."

Bumlets smiled back. "That's great, Davy. I've always kind of had a soft spot for Sarah, actually. Are you sure I can't be nice to her instead of Specs? It'd be a lot easier for me."

"Give Specs a try. I know he can be kind of a … well … kind of a bastard, but once you get used to him … uh … I guess he's still a bastard, but you get used to it." David frowned a bit. "Okay, I guess that wasn't the most convincing argument."

Bumlets gave a small chuckle. "But Skittery can be a bastard, too, and I like him enough. I'll give Specs a try, all right? I said I would. Just … don't expect any miracles, okay? I don't know how well the whole thing will go. And I refuse to bury my beliefs just to get along with him. I'll be nicer about it – for you – but I doubt I'll be able to stop yelling at him for being an asshole."

"Try your best … and no doubting anything. I'm pretty sure I already told you that negative thoughts affect things a lot more than most people think they will. Positive thinking, okay?"

* * *

"Ah, man, this thing is a beast," Jack complimented as he swung off Spot's motorcycle. "When can I drive it again?

"Never. You're a suck ass driver," Spot told him. "You almost ran off the bridge and landed it in the river."

"Yeah, but I didn't, did I?"

"Only because I started helping you steer," Spot retorted.

"Hey, Bo- er, Sp- … er … um … Sean," Slingshot interrupted. He looked at Jack. "How much does he know?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot," Spot answered, "but I'm not hopeful that the trend will continue. He's stupid, but he's bound to notice some things. I'm waiting for him to work it out by himself."

"I really wish people would stop talking about me as if I'm not here," Jack said. "And what is it that I have to figure out for myself?"

"I think it's pretty obvious that you have to find out by yourself," Slingshot replied before looking back at Spot. "So can I talk freely in front of him? Or should we go somewhere private when I need to talk about … business?"

Jack rolled his eyes at the fact that they were _still_ talking about him as if he wasn't _right_ there, but he decided not to say anything this time around. They didn't really seem to take his comments to heart, so what was the point?

"Here's fine," Spot answered. "What is it?"

"Hm. Nothing of monumental importance."

Spot quirked up an eyebrow. "Monumental? Got yourself a Word-a-Day calendar?"

"Hey, now, don't make fun," Slingshot replied while he grinned. "Just because I'm a gang member doesn't mean that I have to have a failing vocabulary."

Jack's eyes widened at 'gang member'. This was a gang? It did make a certain crazy amount of sense, he supposed. He wondered how much trouble he was getting himself into by staying here. He should probably hurry up and find another place to stay. Unfortunately, he didn't even have any _potential_ crash spots. He was running out of friends pretty quickly these days.

"So you did actually get yourself a calendar?" Spot asked as he smirked.

"Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I _did_ steal it."

Spot gave an amused silent snort. "So what is it you need to tell me?"

"Oh … right. So, I was wondering if … I could perhaps have a few bucks for cigarettes. I am dangerously _below_ out … and people are starting to bug me for what I owe them."

"You _owe_ people cigarettes?" Spot asked, already fishing in his pockets for some change. "So you're playing poker now? When the hell did that happen?"

Slingshot shrugged. "I started getting bored."

"Right. Whatever. This is all I have with me," Spot answered. He handed over some one-dollar bills along with a mess of coins. "If you need any more, you'll have to go around begging. Oh, and tell Stealth to write down everything he knows about France. I'll need the complete list by the end of the week."

"I'm on it."

"Oh, and take Jack with you; he's getting irritating."

Jack suppressed his urge to punch Sean. He hadn't even said anything for the last five minutes.

* * *

Itey sighed and burrowed a bit more into Mush's chest. "I seriously don't know what I would do without you, Mushie. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. Skitts and I were friends once, right? Why is it so hard to go back to how we were?"

"I … I don't think you can just go back like that," Mush said. He wrapped his arms around Itey. "You can't … I don't think you can go _back_ to being friends. I think you have to _become_ friends again. Does that make any sense?"

"So … we have to … what? No, sorry, I don't understand that at all."

"You've both been through too much together to go back to how you were. You need to take some time to explore what you are to each other _now_," Mush reiterated. He really wished they were on the couch instead of the recliner. He was pretty sure recliners weren't made to recline two people.

"For a terrifyingly naïve person, you're incredibly wise." Itey looked up a bit in order to see Mush's face. "I also appreciate how homophobic you _aren't_. The fact that you're holding me while I'm crying about my boyfriend dumping me? It's almost _too_ accepting of you."

Mush shrugged. "It's no big deal. I mean, I'm constantly holding Blink for one reason or another." He smiled a bit.

"Ha!" Itey sat up on Mush's lap and grinned down at him. "I think I just got even more proof that you and Blink are hot for each other."

"What? No," Mush said quickly. "That's just how we are. It doesn't mean anything."

"Mm-hm, yeah, I'm sure that's the reason you guys are so clingy with each other. 'That's just how you are.' Of course that's all it is," Itey mocked as he rolled his eyes. "I wonder if Blink is as oblivious as you are."

"There's nothing between us but friendship, Itey … honest."

"All right, fine, you go drown in your obliviousness, but once you realize I'm right, I am going to gloat like a mad man on crack."

"Do mad men on crack really gloat?" Mush asked, drawing his eyebrows together and looking confused.

"They gloat like a stray cat that just found an old, rotting fish," Itey said confidently before deflating a bit. "Okay, that was probably one too many similes, huh? What can I say? I love the little buggers."

"I actually prefer metaphors. But they both have so many clichés; it's obnoxious. … 'As quiet as a mouse', 'sneaky like a cat', 'as sharp as a tack', 'as dull as a crayon', 'cornered like a rat' … the clichés go on and on."

"But that's not the similes' or metaphors' fault. Clichés are like a disease … or a gross, disgusting fungus. No one likes them, but they won't stop growing. Also, people tend to be lazy and stupid most of the time, so they use them out of lack of originality, the idiots."

Mush smiled, glad to be off the subject of Skittery and Blink. "Do you think the metaphors and similes feel bad because people misuse them? Or do they not mind as long as it means they're being used?"

"I don't think they like to be used at all. Have _you_ ever been used? It sucks hardcore … Like a rhinoceros sitting on you. I'm sure the metaphors and similes would like to be their own people."

"So do you think they hate it that you just used that simile?"

Itey nodded enthusiastically. "They hate it like you hate talking about how you and Blink are actually in love with each other." He grinned. "Hey, look at that! Not only did I use a kick ass simile (again), but I also got us back on the topic that you were trying so hard to avoid."

Mush sighed. "I really don't like Blink."

* * *

"Of course you do! I am an all-knowing god. I think you should listen to me about this. Who called Bumlets on being a fag even though he kept on denying it? Uh … yes, sir, I think that might have been … um … _me_. People should really start paying attention when I talk."

Blink rolled his eye and tried to massage a headache out of his scalp. "Maybe people would listen to you more if you weren't such an obnoxious kid. Can we drop it, Skitts? You've been talking about Mush nonstop since we left school. It's getting annoying. No, I do not have a crush on him, but I am starting to think _you_ might."

Skittery nodded sympathetically. "I know what you're doing. I took psychology sophomore year. You're projecting. You're saying _I_ have a crush on Mush when, really, it's your little way of admitting that _you_ have a crush on him. You can admit it to me directly, Blink. I promise I won't look down on you or think any less of you. People fall in love with their friends all the time. It's a common phenomenon."

Blink tried to sigh, but it somehow turned into a growl halfway through. "Please, for the love of … whatever-the-hell-could-possible-love-you, _stop_ bringing it up. I love Mush _as a friend_. There's no hidden meaning there. God, why can't you just let it go?"

Skittery shook his head, still looking at Blink with pity. "You're meant to be with Mush, Blinkie-poo. I don't know why you can't seem to see it even though it's completely obvious to everyone else. I feel it's my job as your friend to give you what you want. And Mush is what you want … whether you realize that little fact or not."

"Fine," Blink snapped, at this point very tense. "You feel like talking about relationships? Let's go. Hey, I've got a great idea! Let's talk about you and Itey, and the fact that you can't seem to tell him you love him, even though you very clearly do."

"I'm hungry. Do you feel like pizza? I'll drive if you buy."

Blink grinned. It looked as if he finally found a way to get Skitts to lay off him about Mush. "You don't have a car."

"Well, yeah. I was just planning on driving yours."

"You don't have a driver's license."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to drive, oh little chum of mine."

"Okay, I feel I need to make it clear that you are not allowed anywhere near the keys to my car."

"I don't need keys. I know how to hot wire," Skittery said proudly.

Blink sighed, and tried to massage out his headache again. "Okay, know what? You're not allowed anyway near my _car_."

Skittery faked a pout. "How the hell are you going to drive me to school if I can't go near your car? That's not fair."

"From now on, if you want a ride, you're going to have to put on some skates and just hang on to the back bumper. I think that's enough of a compromise. And who the hell told you I'd keep giving you rides to school? I thought it was just a one time thing."

"Itey usually drives me to school. I can't get a ride with him anymore. I can't drive myself because, again, no driver's license. My parents don't care enough about me to get me there. Dutchy and Bumlets are all over each other, and it's disgusting, so I'm not letting Bumlets drive me. You're the only friend I have left," Skittery replied, pouting for real now.

Blink closed his eye and sighed again. "If I hang out with you much longer, I'm either going to end up killing myself or going to become completely insane."

Skittery burst into a smile. "I'm an adventure."

"You know, maybe you'd have more friends if you stopped trying to scare everyone away."

"Tch." Skittery crossed his arms and started to pout again. "I don't need a lecture, _Mom_. Just leave me alone."

Blink rolled his eye. "I'd love to, but you're at my house. Also, do I really have to point out that you're sitting on my lap? That little fact makes it physically impossible for me to leave. You can, though."

Skittery looked hurt for no more than a few seconds before turning it into anger. "Fine. You know what? Fuck you." He jerked off of his no-longer-friend's lap, and made it halfway to the door before Blink even realized what was happening.

Blink's eye widened, and his eyebrows drew together. "Skitts? What? No. I didn't actually mean that."

But Skittery was already out the door.

* * *

Slingshot opened Spot's door and walked into his room without bothering to knock. "Hey, Boss. Jack's with Bam, so … he's relatively safe. Hunter kept trying to take him off my hands, but I thought that might be a bad idea."

"Congratulations: you can think," Spot replied, dropping the book he was reading onto the floor. "Do you want a reward for knowing that giving Hunter any type of responsibility is a bad idea? You shouldn't; I don't even like Jack. Why the hell would I care what happens to him?"

Slingshot rolled his eyes. He walked over to the couch Spot was sitting on, not hesitating to make himself comfortable. "Oh, please, that's such bullshit. Why the hell would you bring him over here if you didn't like him?"

"He's homeless and desperate. I'm thinking about getting him to join."

"Tch, get him to join? And you couldn't just ask him straight out if he had any _interest_ in joining? That's what you did for the rest of us. What's different about him?"

Spot sighed as he mentally cursed his second-in-command's stupidity. "Maybe you _can't_ think. I can't just ask him, because he goes to my school and has no idea who I really am. If I tell him, he'll freak out, and he'll blab to people. Therefore, I'm letting him stay here as he slowly figures it out, so that I can ask him to join without blowing my cover.

Slingshot raised his eyebrows. "Isn't this a little bit too much work for you? People are practically lining up to join; there's no need to go to extremes to find another member. You are aware of that, right?"

"When have I ever let people in my gang just because they ask? That's idiotic."

"Right, of course. Stupid me."

"I really hope you didn't come here just to talk about Jack."

"No. I wanted to thank you for that money. Hopefully, people will stop bugging me now."

Spot rolled his eyes. "What is it with you and stealing all my money, anyway? Don't you get enough?"

"Hey, I'm an expensive type of guy. I can't help that I enjoy the finer things in life."

"Like paying for dates or playing poker? Yeah, of course."

"Okay, so I'm not the most privileged kid in the world. I think I work well with what I have."

"Mm-hmm. Is there something else you want?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you could be a bit nicer to Kevin for me."

Spot silently snorted. "Your cousin? I'm already helping him with that absurd project. Why the fuck do I have to-?"

"He's having a hard time fitting in," Slingshot interrupted hurriedly. "He and Jack used to be friends, but then Kevin quit the track team. All his friends abandoned him, and he's feeling a little depressed right now. Why can't you be a little nicer to him?"

Spot rolled his eyes. "He's feeling pathetic … so what? Tell him to suck it up and not to be such a baby."

"Spot, can't you at least _try_ to sympathize with him? He's having a hard time right now."

"I _am_ sympathizing with him; I still don't give a fuck."

"You obviously aren't. If you _were_ sympathizing, then you _would_ give a fuck."

"Fine; I guess I just suck at sympathy. Now leave me alone."

Slingshot quietly growled. "You're impossible, you know that? What's wrong with giving him a chance and talking to him for a bit? You don't know … you might actually end up liking him."

"Are you on something right now? I don't like _anyone_, especially people I'm forced into liking. Don't tell me you're that stupid."

"You've never given anyone a _chance_ before. You _always_ just assume you're going to hate them. What kind of an attitude is that?"

"A realistic one."

"Only because that's what you already think. If you met someone with the intention of making friends, then-"

"Why the hell do I want to make friends? What's the point of that?"

"That's what people _do_! That's what life is all about!"

Spot silently snorted again. "That's absurd."

"It's not! You're … you're so difficult!"

"I definitely like you better when I'm fucking you."

Slingshot burst out laughing, all of his anger suddenly gone. "Oh, God, ain't that the truth."

Spot rolled his eyes as he watched Slingshot clutching his stomach and laughing. "That was me being coy, dumbass."

Slingshot tried his best to stop laughing, and did a fairly good job of succeeding. "I don't really think that can be considered coy, Boss. It's a little too obvious you want to …" Slingshot's eyes widened as he finally realized what was going on. "Oh! Right. Hell yeah."

* * *

Bumlets walked awkwardly around the convenience store while waiting for Dutchy. He knew that his … er … boyfriend? … fuck buddy? … his … whatever … had a … date? … meeting?

Fuck, labels were hard work.

Okay, Dutchy was hanging out with Specs. There, that was easy enough. Just avoid the labels, and all was well.

So … he knew that Dutchy was hanging out with Specs, but he had been assured it wouldn't take too long. He'd also been assured that Dutchy would meet him here … at this convenience store … without Specs.

The agreed upon time? That had passed a good twenty minutes ago.

Bumlets sighed as he contemplated the résumé forms. He was supposed to be meeting Dutchy here so they could both apply for a job. Sooo … was he just supposed to fill one out without Dutch? Did he even want a job here if his … his whatever didn't work with him? And, most importantly, when the hell did he become such a dependent boyfriend … er … pseudo-boyfriend?

He had always been in control.

Oh, yeah, that was a huge lie. Okay, so the truth? He had always been in control since everyone broke up and went their separate ways.

Honestly? He had never really hung out with the old gang much. He was there, sure, but he was part of the background. He didn't have that best friend everyone else seemed to have. Really, he just didn't … _fit_ like everyone else did.

In other words, when everyone went off in their different directions, he wasn't nearly as broken up about it as everyone else was. And by 'everyone else,' he meant 'Itey, Skittery, and Dutchy'. They were the ones that felt left behind. And, yet again, he was the one in the background.

… Soon after that, though? Skittery corrupted Itey, and got himself a playmate to make fun of Dutchy with. Dutchy became even more of a fool with no one to defend him. And, eventually, Bumlets realized that it was his job to step up because they all needed some guidance.

Now he was asking David for advice, even though it was something he had never really done before. Everyone else in the old group used to, yes, but not him. The fact that he was doing it now was … weird.

The fact that he was feeling awkward without Dutchy around to tell him what to do? That was … terrifying.

"Whoa. Bumlets?"

Bumlets turned toward the voice. "Swifty. Uh, hey." He smiled while shifting on his feet a bit, feeling even more awkward than he had before. "What's up?"

Swifty held up the bottle of soda he had. "Got thirsty. I live, like, two minutes from here, so I just walked down. What's up with you?"

"Uh … I was supposed to meet Dutchy to fill out applications for open positions here, but … he's a bit late."

"You want to work in a convenience store? Ew. Plus, don't you have to be eighteen?"

Bumlets sighed before shrugging. "Maybe? I don't really know. Whatever."

"Pissed Dutchy stood you up?" Swifty asked with a small smile. "Yeah, I know what that's like. Listen, there's this sweet coffee shop around the corner. If you think you can drink coffee with someone you hate, I'll buy you a cup."

Bumlets gave a smile back. "I don't _hate_ you. I just _dislike_ you. There's a difference. I do hate coffee, though, so you might have to change your deal."

"I'll … buy you a soda and a giant cookie."

"Make it a _hot chocolate_ and a giant cookie, and I'm all over that deal," Bumlets replied, his smile widening.

* * *

David sat in his room doing homework …er … _trying_ to do homework. In truth, he was worrying about the French project. Was he really not going to do it? Yes, he was. He felt like he couldn't let Jack win this fight for some reason. He _couldn't_ cave in.

On the other hand … what would his parents say when they saw his final French grade? They'd be so mad at him when they found out he had completely skipped out on doing his French project. He was already in deep trouble for the fight as it was.

"This is so fucked up," he mumbled to himself.

His eyes widened. Oh, jeez, he just said 'fuck'. Clearly Bumlets was a bad influence on him. Or was he? He did get him to stand up to Specs. Though, that got him in trouble with his parents. But, at the same time …

David sighed. He just wasn't sure what he was doing anymore. This wasn't how he was supposed to act. He liked standing up for himself, but would it always get him in this much trouble? Was there another alternative? There had to be another way to be assertive without being so rebellious. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how, though.

He heard the front door open, jerking him out of his thoughts for the time being.

"We should go out to eat … without David … because he's being punished," Sarah's muffled voice said. "In fact, we shouldn't even check on him."

David smiled to himself. It seemed as if Sarah was still trying to cover for him even though it was – he looked at the clock – already five-thirty. He had no idea his sister would do something like this for him. It was a happy surprise. No, it made him more than just happy; it made him … What was a stronger word for happy? He supposed 'ecstatic' worked pretty well.

"No, Sarah," David's dad answered back, his voice coming closer with every word. "You've spent enough of my money for this week. Keep it up, and you're going to make us broke."

"So you're going to check on David? I can do it, Dad. You should … do whatever it is you do. You want to read the paper? Because I can get you the paper."

"I'd like to check on my son, if you don't mind," David's dad said before the doorknob twisted and the door swung in.

"Hey, Dad," David greeted, turning away from his homework to face his dad and Sarah. He saw his sister visibly relax when she spotted him. It made him smile even more.

"Your mother and I are going out tomorrow, so you two are going to have to baby-sit your little brother."

Sarah straightened up, and she bounced a bit. "Ooh, can one of my friends come over?"

"Who?" their dad shot back.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't know; I haven't asked them yet. I think Rachel said she didn't have anything to do."

"No. She racks up the phone bill. If you want someone over, it has to be someone responsible enough to actually _help_ you watch your brother, not distract you from it."

"What about Teresa? Can Teresa come over?"

"Last time she came over she got nail polish all over the couch. I'd really prefer it if you two would just baby-sit by yourselves."

"What if" – Sarah quickly glanced over at David – "Bumlets came over. He's responsible, right?"

Mr. Jacobs frowned. "Bumlets? You haven't talked about him in quite awhile. Alright, but if we come home to a mess, he's not going to be helping again."

"Thanks, Daddy," Sarah practically squealed before leaping on her father and giving him a hug.

David waited until his dad left and closed the door before showing his amazement. "Bumlets? Really?"

Sarah grinned. "Hey, you can never say I don't love you, little bro." She ruffled his hair a bit.

David swatted her hand away half-heartedly.

* * *

"Oh, God," Spot whispered in disbelief as he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I really don't mind," Slingshot consoled him in a carefree voice. "Though, next time, could you tell me when I'm supposed to be imitating someone else? For a second I thought you might have been getting off on that racetrack owner. That would have been gross. He's super old and fat." He made a face as he felt bile at the back of his throat. "I think I just made myself throw up a little."

"Oh, God," Spot repeated as he covered his eyes in shame. "That didn't just happen."

"Pretty sure it did, actually," Slingshot said. "After all, I was there and heard you with perfect clarity. You definitely just yelled out 'Racetrack'."

"No, I didn't," Spot replied pitifully. "It never happened. Drop it."

Slingshot rolled his eyes before sitting next to Spot's horizontal body on the bed. "Okay, so you have a crush. It's not like it's something new. Everyone gets crushes, Bossman. And, sure, getting a crush on Racetrack of all people is a little unexpected, but at least it's not someone stupid like Hunter, right?"

"I don't … I've never had a crush on someone before, Sling," Spot confessed, looking completely lost for what may have been the first time in his life. He finally sat up, but continued looking at the ceiling for answers. "I don't _get_ crushes; that's how it's supposed to be."

Slingshot sighed in sympathy. "_Everyone_ gets crushes, Sean, even you. The fact that you've never had one before just means you're a late bloomer …in _some_ respects, anyway. Look, it's fine, really. I promise I won't tell anyone, and if you really just want to act like it never happened …"

"I … have … a crush," Spot struggled to say. He hunched over, and rested his face in his hand. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he groaned. "This wasn't what I planned for. Oh, God."

"No one plans for crushes, Sean," Slingshot said before putting a hand on his boss' shoulder. "It's all just hormones and shit. And it's not like it's something you did, all right? It's just something unfortunate that happened. Just think of it like your grandmother dying or something."

"I think about him all the time." Spot mumbled his confession as he leaned into Slingshot. "And he makes me … _tingle_. He … makes my chest feels like it's about to explode whenever he comes near me, and I _hate_ it. I absolutely despise the feeling. Do you think I could maybe kill him?"

"Probably not a good idea to solve all your problems by killing someone," Slingshot advised before pulling Spot into a hug and not letting him go. "It's just a crush, Sean. It's not something you have to act on if you don't want to. And it _will_ eventually go away."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Sean'?" Spot asked with a sigh, sounding a little more like himself.

"I thought … it's supposed to help comfort you or something … I think," Slingshot replied. "I'm not really sure, but I thought it might be worth a try. Seeing you like this is seriously scaring me hella bad. It's creepier than being stuck in a room with Rambler."

"Yeah, well, I'm done now," Spot said before pulling out of Slingshot's embrace. "And … uh … if I was the type of guy to say 'thank you,' I would, but I'm not, so instead I'll just say 'if you tell anyone at all about this in any way, I'm going to kill you'."

"Well, you're welcome, then," Slingshot answered as he got off the bed and stretched. "Want to help me find my pants now? Because being naked is starting to get cold and uncomfortable."

"I think I threw them over there," Spot replied, pointing toward a corner of the room as he slipped on some boxers.

"Okay, those are totally my boxers," Slingshot claimed when he found his pants and turned to face Spot. "You can tell because they're too big and manly for you."

"Do you want to die?" Spot asked him with none of the malice the question asked for. "These are mine; you weren't even _wearing_ boxers today."

"Oh, yeah," Slingshot said, realizing it was true as he slipped on his pants. "Okay, well, let me just find my shirt and then I'll be out of here."

"Your shirt's got cum all over it," Spot pointed out as he looked at its limp form on the bed. "Leave it here and I'll take care of it. Just grab a shirt from my closet instead."

* * *

"And Bumlets is so sweet! … For reals. He just … makes me feel so special, you know? And he does this cute little thing with his eyebrows when he's confused. You wouldn't even believe how utterly adorable it is," Dutchy said, using outrageous hand gestures in order to get his point across. He was gushing like a preteen girl with a crush on a member of one of those boy bands from the nineties. Actually, sadly enough, he was gushing like _himself_ with a crush on a member of a boy band from the nineties. That was _so_ not his fault, though. Nick Carter was hot; no one could deny it. Well, someone _could_ deny it, but they'd be lying out of their ass.

"But you and Bumlets? I know you told me about it yesterday, but I was sure you were kidding around. It still seems so unbelievable. Gay men confuse the hell out of me, I swear. I mean, what's with all of them being sluts? And how does a good fashion sense mix in with it all? Hey, you think now that Bumlets is gay he'll finally realize that he has the ugliest hair in the history of existence? Seriously, it's not pretty," Specs said. He noticed that Dutchy hadn't really been listening. In fact, it looked as if he was completely dazed out. "Dutchy? Dutch. Dutchy!"

Dutchy blinked a few times, reluctantly coming out of his daydream about getting randomly jumped on the street by members of boy bands. Oh, if only that was his reality. "And he does the cutest little thing with his eyebrows."

Specs frowned and tilted his head to the side while trying to catch Dutchy's eye. "…When he's confused. Yeah, so you've told me … like, five seconds ago." He sighed. "Well, I guess it's safe to say that you were dazed out during my entire wonderfully marvelous rant, huh? What's up with you? You okay?"

Dutchy swatted a hand into the air and gave a half-hearted smile. "Who's okay? Me? Oh, definitely. I was just dreaming about … you know … Bumlets. No big deal. I do it all the time. It's who I am … As well as being the stupid and naïve one … _apparently_."

"Okay, so I don't really understand Gay-enese all the well (or Girl-ican, come to think of it, which I assume would have a lot of resemblance to Gay-enese), but am I correct in thinking that that actually meant 'no, I'm not okay at all'?"

Dutchy shrugged. "It's nothing … really. It's just some stupid thing Skittery said … and Bumlets, too. You don't think I'm stupid and naïve … do you? Because I'm not."

"Of course I don't think that. Did Bumlets actually tell you that you were? I understand Skittery saying it; he's a complete ass. But Bumlets … what? He agreed with him? Are you sure you want to go out with someone who insults you like that? I mean, there's friendly banter, and then there's bullying."

"I think it was supposed to be friendly banter. I probably just took it too personally."

"You shouldn't have to make up excuses for him like that! You shouldn't have to put up with that type of shit! You should talk to him. You want me to for you? I will."

"No! Don't! Specs, honestly, it's fine. That's just the way they are. They don't mean anything by it."

"Bullshit! You can't just brush it off like that! You keep doing that then they're going to keep walking all over you. You have shitty friends, Dutch, and I-"

"Alright, I'm good! That's enough!" Dutchy shouted as he shot up from his seat. "It's fine if you want to try and talk me into standing up for myself, but do not … do _not_ insult my friends. They've already more than proven themselves by sticking around when _you_ wouldn't."

"You can't do that to me!" Specs replied, standing up as well. "You can't just bring up a past mistake like that! I'm making up for it now, right? And the old gang was well past done before I decided to leave! I already apologized for the whole thing, anyway! It was-"

"When did you apologize?" Dutchy asked. He deflated a bit as he slowly sat back down. "You never apologized. I'm pretty positive I would remember that."

"I definitely did," Specs said, sitting down as well. "… Right?"

"You never did … I don't think." Dutchy scrunched up his face, trying to think. "No, I _know_ I would have remembered. It would have been categorized in my brain under 'Precious Moments to Never Be Forgotten.'"

"I totally apologized. I distinctly remember it."

"I don't remember you apologizing at all, and if you had … I would've … I swear."

"But I _know_ I did it. We were sitting alone at lunch, and-"

"We've never sat alone at lunch."

Specs blinked in confusion before realization hit and his eyes widened. "Oh, right! Skittery was always interrupting us, so I couldn't! I guess I just thought about it so much I mistakenly decided it was a _real_ memory. Well, in that case … I'm sorry and shit … for dumping you in exchange for David."

"That was … probably one of the worst apologies I've ever been given … but it's accepted anyway."

"Great. Now that that whole gay melodrama's over I should be heading home."

"Yeah, I should go meet Bumlets," Dutchy said, looking around for a clock. "Holy shit! Is that the time? I was supposed to meet him, like, an hour ago! Holy mother-fucking fuck!" he shouted as he dropped some cash onto the table and hurried towards the door.

Specs' eyes widened, and a small smile crossed his face. "Oh! I'm totally going with you! I'd love to see an angry Bumlets who isn't directing his hatred towards me!"

* * *

"It wasn't my dog! It was my mom's!"

"Yeah, but it followed you around _everywhere_. I remember when he got run over by a car, and I had to go to the veterinarian's office with you. You made me stay there all night with you while you waited to make sure he was okay."

"… Only to find out that he died during surgery." Bumlets glanced down at his hot chocolate, thinking about his d-… er … his _mom's_ dog.

Swifty sighed. "By the time we left it was … what? Five in the morning?" He smiled slightly as he quietly chuckled. "Both our parents wouldn't answer our phone calls because they had completely crashed. We ended up having to walk home together, remember?"

"It took us until noon, because you kept getting us lost." Bumlets chuckled as well, returning the smile.

"_I_ kept getting us lost? No way. I remember everything perfectly, and _you_ were the one in charge of directions."

"I was definitely following you. I know, because I remember repeatedly thinking that you were taking us in the opposite direction."

"Hey, how weird would it have been if we were both following each other?"

"Okay, next time we go somewhere together we clearly state who's following whom, agreed?"

"That's got my vote," Swifty replied before drifting off into a short, awkward silence. "So … uh … working in a convenience store? Can I ask about that?"

Bumlets took a sip of hot chocolate, and slowly set it back down. "Dutchy and I are supposed to be looking for jobs together." He shrugged. "The convenience store was just one of the places hiring."

"You know, a friend of my dad's owns this CD store that's looking for workers. If I put in a good word for you, he'll probably be able to put you to work by next week. I can't absolutely guarantee anything, but I don't see why he would say 'no'. The owner's really awesome; he doesn't really give a shit about anything. He's one of those happy-go-lucky types, you know? So … you want me to talk to him for you?"

"That'd be really sweet. Thanks, Swift." Bumlets smiled happily before frowning and shifting in his seat a bit. "Uh … this is probably asking a lot, but could you maybe talk to him about Dutchy, too? He needs a job more than I do."

Swifty quietly snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah? Well, that certainly explains why he wasn't at the convenience store to fill out an application with you." He sighed while wearing a small grin. "I'll make sure to mention him, 'kay?"

Bumlets smiled back. "So is this like a bribe to become your friend again?"

Swifty's smile dropped a bit as he shrugged. "Maybe a bit, yeah. You never stopped being my friend, dude, and that's the honest truth. Unfortunately, I guess, at some point, without even realizing it, _I_ stopped being _your_ friend. I'm sorry for that, and I feel like I need to prove that I still care about you. If getting you and Dutchy a job is going to help that along some, then, hell yes, I'm going to do it."

Bumlets sighed as he nodded. "Thanks, man, I mean it. It really does mean a lot, and I'm sure Dutchy will appreciate it even more than me. Can we be done with all the sappiness now? It's starting to get a little sickening."

"Sappiness is officially over," Swifty said before a long and awkward pause made itself known. "I guess there's not much else to talk about."

"Apparently we can only talk about dogs, directions, and jobs."

"And general sappiness," Swifty replied with a smile.

"Ah, yes, how true friendship is made."

"Indeed, sir. So … should we talk about your dog some more, or do you need to leave?"

"Oddly enough, I'm having a pretty good time right now. Plus" – Bumlets lifted up his hot chocolate mug – "I'm not finished yet."

Swifty gave a lopsided smile. "Thanks a lot, dude. I'm so happy that I mean that much to you. Jesus. 'Oddly enough' … That's harsh, man."

Bumlets laughed. "But I am having a good time. That's got to count for something, right?"

"It's the only reason I'm not bawling my eyes out right now." Swifty saw someone come into the coffee shop out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look at them fully. "Hey, you were supposed to meet Dutchy, right? I think I just found him." He gave a slight jerk of his head towards the two people entering. "He hanging out a lot with Specs, then?"

Bumlets turned around in his chair to see what Swifty was talking about, and couldn't fight back a glare. "That bastard. What the hell is he doing?" he hissed.

Swifty leaned over the table a bit in order to whisper, "Bit jealous, are you?"

"Just pissed he stood me up. He has to know what time it is, but he hasn't even called me," Bumlets muttered back. "Dutchy!" he called out. "What the hell happened to meeting me, man?"

"Bumlets!" Dutchy greeted back as his eyes widened. "Hey!" He bit his lip, and gave a small shrug. "Yeah … uh … sorry. I was … I guess I just lost track of time. I was going to call but … uh …"

Bumlets rolled his eyes, not looking at all placated. "That slipped your mind, too?"

Dutchy gave his friend a forced smile. "Well, yeah, I guess that's pretty much what happened. I mean, I went to the convenience store we were supposed to meet at, but you had already left, so …"

"Looks like he left to get a date with Swifty," Specs happily piped up.

Swifty held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "Hey, now, that's not at all what happened. I just thought it'd be nice to catch up. I'm not trying to … er … steal your man or anything, Dutchy. I swear. I'm straight, at any rate."

"Mm-hmm," Specs replied as he crossed his arms. "You know, Bumlets used to claim to be straight, too, and look at what happened to him. You can't play the 'straight' card, buddy."

"Yeah? So by your logic you must be out on a date with Dutchy, right? I mean, you're alone together, Dutchy missed meeting up with Bumlets, and even though you say you're straight, you're really gay. Is that right?" Swifty asked.

Specs smirked. "Well, no. See, when I say I'm straight, I'm actually telling the truth."

"God, you're a dick. How the fuck do people stand to be around you?"

Bumlets smiled, happy that he had Swifty on his side this time. "Now you understand why I'm so pissed Dutchy blew me off."

"I didn't blow you off!"

Swifty decided to ignore Dutchy's input. "Yeah. If I was you, I'd be plenty insulted. You know, Jack blows me off for Masson all the time, and I always have to ask myself, 'what the hell is so wrong with me that I come second to _Masson_?'"

Bumlets perked up even more. "Exactly! I'm so glad someone else _gets_ it!"

"Me, too! And you tell Jack about it, and he just acts like you're crazy, because _of course_ he doesn't like Masson more than me! Pfft! 'Of course'! As if it's so fucking obvious! And he's always trying to defend him! 'Oh, it wasn't _that_ bad' … 'He didn't _really_ say that'… 'He's not _that_ much of a bastard', but it is and he did and he is! And the worst part is you _know_ he knows it, but he just won't _admit_ it!"

"Dutchy does the _exact_ same thing! He _always_ downplays Specs' asshole tendencies! It makes me wonder why I'm friends with such an idiotic person!"

"It's so absolutely awesome that you understand! And you wish you didn't have to be friends with him, because it's such crap, but at the same time you want to continue being his friend, because it's always been your job to look after him!"

"Yes! It's so annoying!"

"Bumlets!" Dutchy finally shouted as his eyes watered. He looked lost as everyone's attention turned to him. "That's really what you think of me?"

Specs glared as he grabbed a hold of Dutchy's hand. "Come on," he snapped as he pulled Dutchy back towards the door. "We're getting a coffee somewhere that doesn't serve assholes."

Bumlets felt his happiness slip away as Dutchy left without a backwards glance. "Complaining about him to someone else while he listened was probably a really bad idea. I can't believe I just did that."

"I'm sorry," Swifty replied, no longer looking all that happy either. "It's my fault; I started it."

"No, I'm the one that started it. I should have known … I shouldn't have done that to him."

"I'm the one that started in about Jack. I was just in rant mode, and I totally forgot Dutchy was here. I should have just dropped it before I started in."

Bumlets smiled slightly. "Are we really arguing about this? It's kind of stupid, don't you think?"

"Yeah." Swifty tried his best to smile and lift the mood. "So … uh … do you think Specs realizes that if they go to a coffee shop that doesn't serve assholes, he won't be allowed to get anything?"

* * *

A/N: So out of the 70-ish hits I got from my last chapter, guess how many people reviewed. Zero. I mean, _ouch_, readers, that's really starting to burn. Excuse me while I go get my ice pack.

Do you like this story? Then tell me. Is it just something to pass the time? Then tell me. Even if you think it sucks, and you read it just to laugh at my writing ... I still want to know. Without feedback from you guys I'm completely lost about what you want.

I'll reply to any comments, answer any questions, and even do a silly little dance if you ask politely enough. What more could you want from me?

So shape up, and start to review, okay? Otherwise I'll buy a plane ticket, fly to your house, and sing to you. Creepy, right? But that's not all, I also have the worst singing voice ever. Believe me, your ears will be bleeding by the time I'm through. Being extremely creeped out and bloody? I'm pretty sure that's not something you want.


	20. It's Just Getting More Bleak

**BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND! **Your reviews brough me back to life! I am sorry for my abscence. Please stick with me, dear readers. We'll get this story finished (eventually).

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue. Believe me, I have nothing you would want.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
Also, I haven't written in quite awhile. Hopefully i'll get back into the full swing of things. Until then, I'm sorry if this chapter isn't up to my usual standards.****  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Beta'ed By: Unfortunately, after 2 years of absence, I've lost contact with my beta's. So, unfortunately, this one was edited by me. Sorry if it's not up to standards.

Summary of Chapter 18 (because at this point I'm sure you've forgotten):

-David pleads with Bumlets to try and get along with Specs  
-David tries to find out what's going on with Itey and Skittery from Bumlets, but Bumlets refuses to tell him anything  
-Jack realizes that he's been staying with a gang  
-Itey and Skittery continue to annoy Mush and Blink about their relationship  
-Skittery gets overly pissed at Blink and makes a dramatic exit  
-Spot confesses to Slingshot that he wants Jack to join the gang  
-Specs fails to meet Bumlets at the convenience store as was promised because he's too busy hanging out with Specs  
-Bumlets and Swifty go out to a coffee shop together  
-Sarah convinces her parents to let Bumlets come over the next day to help baby sit  
-Spot suddenly realizes he has a crush on Racetrack, and he is forced to discuss it with Slingshot  
-Specs apologizes to Dutchy about ditching him back in ninth grade  
-Specs and Dutchy run into Swifty and Bumlets in the coffee shop  
-Bumlets complains about Dutchy, and Dutchy leaves feeling hurt

And now, without further ado, I present chapter 19!

Getting Back Together Again  
**XIV: It's Just Getting More Bleak**

Specs pulled up to Dutchy's house, and parked his car along the curb. He took a minute to wonder if he could get away with honking instead of going all the way to the door. He was the one doing the favor, after all. It wasn't fair if he had to put too much work into it. On the other hand, he remembered Dutchy's parents, and they would definitely not appreciate a car horn this early in the morning.

Sighing, he climbed out of his car as he cursed his too-nice nature. Dutchy definitely owed him a big one for doing all this work so early in the morning. He even had to wake up half an hour earlier so he could get here on time.

"You're complaining to yourself, aren't you?" Dutchy asked as he stepped outside, and made sure to lock the door behind him. "You get this little tic in your jaw whenever you do."

"Earliness is not my thing. Why did I have to come pick you up again?" Specs asked, starting back to his car as the tic in his jaw still attempted Morse Code. "Why can't someone else do it?"

"You scared away all my someone elses. Well … that, and they're too wrapped up in their own thing." Dutchy shrugged and looked at his shoes as he followed behind Specs. "Things are just so weird right now; I don't really feel like dealing with any of them … especially Bumlets."

Specs smiled brightly as he hopped into his car. "Good for you. They treat you like complete trash, and, in all honesty, it really disgusts me that you continue to put up with it."

"They don't treat me like trash." Dutchy climbed more slowly into the car. "And I don't think I should have left like that yesterday. I'm the one that stood him up; he had a right to be angry."

Specs started his car, and pulled off the curb. "He was complaining to Swifty about you while you were _right_ there. He constantly treats you like crap. He insults your intelligence. I don't understand how you even put up with him. He's such an ass."

"He says the same thing about you. I don't understand why you two can't give each other a chance. It's not fair trying to make me choose sides."

"I don't understand why you're having such a hard time with everything. Do you _enjoy_ being treated like crap? Is that why you hang out with your asshole friends? That's not at all healthy."

"Can we stop talking about my friends now? I've already told you that I don't want you criticizing them."

"I thought we took care of all that! You didn't want me saying anything about them because they stuck with you when I didn't, right? But I apologized, so we're all on even footing now. Problem solved."

"I accepted your apology, I didn't say I was choosing you over my old friends. I forgave you, yes, but I'm not about to forget what you did to me."

"What? So you _don't_ really forgive me? Then why the hell did I have to apologize?"

"God! Never mind! Just forget I ever said anything!"

"Well … fine, Mr. Grouchy-Pants."

* * *

Slingshot took a sip of his coffee before venturing into his boss's room. Right away he found what he was expecting: Spot oversleeping. Oddly enough, however, Jack wasn't on the couch as he had previously expected. In fact, the boy didn't seem to be in the room at all. Not really caring all that much about Jack, Slingshot simply shrugged it off and focused on the whole point of coming in here in the first place.

He made his way over to his boss's bed. Instead of waking him, as was intended, Slingshot took the time to simply watch. A lot of people looked angelic and peaceful as they slept; Spot was not one of them. His arms were at awkward angles, his face was smashed up against his pillow, and he seemed to be trying to learn how much drool his pillow could absorb.

Slingshot smiled a bit. The sight may have been far from angelic or peaceful, but it was still has cute as singing bunnies. He cocked his head to the side a bit, still continuing to look down at his boss. He wondered if he usually found drool cute, or if it was because he was in love.

He blinked and replayed the thought in his mind. Pft, 'in love'? He shook his head slightly. When did he get so sappy? It was such an absurd thought.

Brushing off his thoughts he focused back in on the matter at hand.

'Matter at hand' … what a weird phrase. If you thought of matter as mass, then …

Slingshot shook his head again before taking another sip of his coffee. He really shouldn't have been allowed to think in the mornings.

"Spot." He crouched down so he was face to face with his boss and started poking him in the forehead. "Oh, dearest darling of mine, time to wake up." He tried his best to hold in a growl as the only response Spot had was to drool a bit more. Slingshot poked him a bit harder. "Hey! Snookums! Time to get the fuck up."

"'Snookums'?" Spot mumbled in a voice hoarse from sleep.

"Oh, Poodle!" Slingshot pretended to gush. "I didn't know you were into pet names! And you're so good at picking them out, too! I'm definitely a 'Snookums'. Oh, Pudding-Pop, you know me so well."

"You better hope this is just some really fucked up nightmare," Spot muttered, "because if it isn't I'm going break every single one of your fingers. It's too fucking early for one of your weird moods, and I don't want to deal with you."

Slingshot forced on a pout, and put a hand over his heart. "Ouch, sir. And you aren't even kind enough to give your lover a good morning kiss. What kind of a man are you?"

"A man that doesn't act like a girl," Spot answered, still not sounding very awake. He rolled over a bit and let his head take refuge underneath the pillow. It took him about two seconds to throw the pillow to the floor. "Why the hell is my pillow wet and cold?" He sat up in his bed and glared at Slingshot as if it was his fault.

Slingshot calmly took another sip of his coffee before answering. "Don't blame me; I'm not the one who drooled all over it."

Spot rubbed one of his eyes in the hopes of becoming more awake. "Why the hell are you here anyway? It's too early for sex."

"The great Spot is too tired for sex?" Slingshot smirked. "Did I tire you out last night? Or could it be that after I left you spent the rest of the night making yourself pant over Ra-"

Spot picked his cold, wet pillow off the floor and threw it at his second-in-command's head. "I'm taking a shower," he grumbled before quickly shutting himself up in his bathroom.

"Don't let yourself think about Racetrack! You'll make yourself even later!" Slingshot yelled before he turned around to leave. He was suddenly met with Stealth standing right in front of him and just staring. His hand flew to his chest as he jumped. "Jesus 'Tap Dancing' Christ! Wear a fucking bell."

Stealth blinked once, then continued to star.

"Spot's gone off to take a shower. Take your staring over there, okay? Shoo."

Stealth stared expressionlessly at Slingshot a bit more before passing him and entering the bathroom with no hesitation.

* * *

"Morning, baby brother," Sarah greeted flippantly to David as she sat down at the kitchen table to eat breakfast with the rest of the family.

"Good morning," David replied back a bit more enthusiastically.

Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs exchanged glances of surprise. Their children hardly ever talked to each other unless they had to, and it had been that way for quite awhile now. They shrugged slightly at each other before smiling a bit, holding a silent conversation all to themselves. 'Did you know about this?' 'No. Did you?' 'Of course not.' 'Teenagers … what can you do?' 'Indeed.'

"You two remember that you have to baby sit your brother today, right?" Mrs. Jacobs asked when the silent conversation with her husband was over.

"Yes, Mother," Sarah and David replied in the same monotone.

"Now, we have to leave at six thirty, so, Sarah, make sure you're home by then," their mother continued.

"I know, Mom."

"Now, I'm not sure when we'll be getting home, but I suspect it'll be around ten or eleven. I want Les to go to bed at his normal bedtime, which is-"

"Eight o'clock sharp," Sarah and David finished, both rolling their eyes.

"We know when Les's bedtime is," Sarah explained. "We've only been babysitting him since he was _two_. Stop worrying; we know what we're doing."

"And Bumlets is the only friend I want to see over here," their father said sternly, ignoring his daughter's reply for the most part. "You break that rule, and you no longer have that privilege, understood? If Les complains about him, or he trashes the house I don't ever want him coming back."

"Yes, Daddy," Sarah agreed quietly, her sarcasm greatly subdued as she looked at the floor.

"The emergency numbers are on the fridge," Mrs. Jacobs said. "Oh, and make sure your brother doesn't eat-"

"… Any chocolate," Sarah finished. "And we'll promise to make sure to fix him a good dinner. Don't worry so much."

"I'm a mother; it's my job to worry."

Sarah sighed. "It's no big deal. I know how to take care of my baby brothers. You guys should give me a little more credit."

Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs glanced at each other, having another silent conversation. 'Did she really just indirectly admit that she takes care of David?' 'I think she did.' 'Is there something going on that we don't know about?' 'Isn't there always?' 'You think it could be drugs?' 'Sarah? I trust that she wouldn't do that.' 'Still, that girl doesn't make any sense.' 'She is a teenager.' 'Indeed.'

Outside a car honked its horn, causing Sarah to jump out of her seat. "That's my ride," she announced before running towards the front door. "I promise to be home before you leave, okay? Stop worrying so much."

* * *

Spot turned off the shower and flung back the curtains to see Stealth staring at him. He tensed slightly at the surprise, but quickly calmed down. He ruffled his hair, shaking water all over the place. "Get me that towel."

Stealth looked around the bathroom until his eyes landed on a crumbled towel on the floor. He picked it up, not all that surprised to find it still damp from the last shower Spot took, and handed it over.

Spot tied the towel around his waist and sat on the edge of the tub.

Stealth looked around again before sitting on the floor and hugging his knees. He stared at the floor for about a minute. "You shouldn't do it."

Spot put his elbows on his knees and hunched over, not saying anything.

"You should try to be a little nicer," Stealth continued, still looking at the floor.

"Stop being so fucking cryptic. Who the hell are you talking about?"

Stealth's eyes snapped up to Spot's, and he slowly blinked a few times. "I didn't think I needed to tell you. Isn't he always on your mind now?"

Spot narrowed his eyes, but refrained from saying anything. He was already late, and talking would just delay the conversation even farther.

Stealth looked back down and started drawing invisible circles on the tile with his middle finger. "You don't have to be so secretive about it," he eventually said. "I know you, and so does the silence. You can be honest with us."

"Racetrack."

Stealth nodded. "Things have already started to move. You can't stop it now."

Spot narrowed his eyes even more. "Something bad is going to happen."

Stealth nodded again, still drawing circles. "I'm sorry."

"I should have known," Spot scoffed. "Life's been too easy lately."

"It's going to be hard for you."

"Obviously. Give me some information that I can use."

Stealth tightly bit his bottom lip and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't. If I do the silence won't talk to me again. It says it's something you have to go through. I'm sorry."

Spot sat quietly for a minute, expressionless as he watched Stealth fidget. He lifted himself up from the edge of the tub and smirked. "Don't worry so much. I haven't died yet, and I've been through a lot of shit."

Stealth looked up at his boss. "This is worse."

Spor quirked an eyebrow as he held on to his smirk. "Always liked a good challenge."

Stealth pushed himself up from the floor. He walked to the door, but paused as his hand rested on the knob. "You shouldn't take this so lightly. I can't see the end of this one," he said quietly before opening the door.

Spot's eyes widened and he quickly shoved the door back into place, trapping Stealth in the bathroom with him. "You can't see the end? What the hell does that mean?"

Stealth rested his forehead on the door. "I can't … I don't know what's going to happen at the end of it. I see the next few days, but after that … it's just an ominous feeling. The last time that happened …"

"The last time that happened my brother died," Spot finished before snorting. "So you think it's my turn now or something? That was a long time ago. You still didn't know what was going on with that power of yours. It doesn't mean anything."

Stealth shrunk down to the floor and held his head. "But it also happened when my parents died, and then again when my brother got killed. It only happens when someone close to me is going to die, and you're the only person close to me. If … if it doesn't mean that, then it means the silence is leaving me all alone, and I … If I had to pick between the two … I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If I had to choose I'd pick-"

Spot put his foot on Stealth's back and pushed him into the door. "I'm going to pretend like I didn't just hear that. I'm not going to die anytime soon, so you shouldn't worry. If it is the silence leaving you I'll just lock you in a closet until it comes back."

Stealth tensed at the threat before jerkily nodded his head.

"Good. Now that that's all straightened out get the fuck out. I need to change, and your face is starting to make me sick."

* * *

"Don't you want to go smoke with your other friends?"

"Mm." Itey looked at the ground. "Not really. I'd rather avoid Skittery for as long as I can. I feel kind of stupid … thinking that we could still be friends after everything that happened."

"But … I thought … didn't we already talk about this? I know you can't go back to how you were, but you can probably become something different, can't you? You don't have to throw everything away."

"I guess the possibility is there and everything, but" – Itey sighed – "I don't think I really have enough strength and determination to actually work towards the goal. It probably sounds really girly of me, but it's all just a bit too painful."

Mush nodded his head. "It makes perfect sense. I wouldn't really want to do it either, but doesn't Skittery's friendship mean more to you than that? I don't really have much room to talk, I guess, since I've never been in your situation. Still, losing a boyfriend may be painful, but isn't losing a best friend just as bad? If you had a chance to save at least one, why wouldn't you take it?"

Itey smiled sadly as he continued looking down at his shoes. "Maybe I'm just cowardly. I don't think there's a very good chance of keeping either, and … and I don't think that I could handle putting myself out there again. It really sucks that I'm the one that has to do all the work all the time. It gets tiring, ya know? He was the one that made the first move, but ever since then I feel like I've been the one pushing us along. If he doesn't care enough to chase after me every once in awhile then maybe it's not worth it."

"So you're testing him? Isn't that a little deceitful? And to depend on him for the entire future of your friendship …"

"It's a bad idea. I know that. At this point I'm just too tired to really give a damn. Skittery's driving me crazy, and I'd rather him do the work for once. If he doesn't, then he's not serious enough about me, is he?"

"Isn't that … "

"It's stupid and petty and I'll probably hate myself for it later. I know all of that. It's awful, but I really can't stop myself from wanting him to suffer." Itey looked at the ground as he ran a hand through his hair. "It's all so fucked up and complicated. I suddenly find myself wanting to do something terrible to Skitts. Words can't even describe how much I want him to suffer. Whenever I picture myself doing something to him though, I always end up wanting to hold him and trying to make it better. It's making me hate myself, and I don't even know if it's because I want to kill him or hold him."

"I'm sorry," Mush replied quietly. "I knew it was hard for you, but I guess I didn't really think it was this bad. It'd be nice if you two could be friends again. You shouldn't try to force yourself into it, though. If you push yourself to like him again, then it's not really friendship anyway, is it?"

Itey chuckled softly, finally looking up. "Aren't you supposed to be more naive than this? I imagined you saying something like 'friendship can win over anything' or 'you and Skittery were made to be best friends; everything will work itself out.'"

Mush rubbed the back of his head and smiled. "I was never that bad, was I? You're exaggerating."

"I am not. You were totally like that," Itey replied, smiling back. "What happened to make you realize the world wasn't all hearts and rainbows?"

"Well … I don't really know." Mush scrunched his eyebrows together, looking up and off to the side as he thought seriously about it. "I have started watching the news."

Itey grinned. "I'm glad you're around, Mushie. I'm really starting to like you again," he declared before leaning forward and quickly kissing Mush on the lips.

Mush's eyes widened, and his face turned bright red. He stood completely still as he just stared in shock at his friend.

Itey tried his best to hold back a smile while he quivered with suppressed laughter. It took only a few seconds before it became too much work to keep it in, and he burst out laughing. "Oh … oh God," he gasped, holding his stomach as he doubled over. "You … you should see your face right now. Oh man. I wish I had a camera. I can't believe you're blushing so bad over such an innocent kiss. You're acting like it's your first one or something."

Mush's eyes rushed to the ground as he blushed even harder.

Itey abruptly stopped laughing, and his eyes widened. He crouched down a bit so he could look his friend in the eye. "No way! It really was? You're a seventeen year old kid, and no one's ever kissed you before?"

"Well … you just did." Mush averted his eyes again as his blush increased in intensity yet again.

Itey smirked and crossed his arms. "And you should be overwhelmingly grateful to get a first kiss from someone as handsome as me. Where's my 'thank you', huh? Come on. Let's hear it."

"Itey!" Blink interrupted as he came running over. "Hey, listen, I need to talk to you about Skittery."

Itey's smile dropped as soon as he heard the name. "What happened?" He quickly clutched his head. "Argh! Never mind! Don't tell me. I don't give a damn about him. I'm going to class," he said angrily before stomping off towards his first period class.

Blink quietly watched him go before turning to look at Mush. "Why are people getting so mad at me all of the sudden? Am I doing something wrong?"

"Itey's just going through a tough time right now," Mush tried to explain. "It was probably a bad idea to bring up Skittery. Don't worry about it too much; I'm sure he just needs some time to cool off. Why'd you need to talk to him about Skittery? Did something happen?"

"I have no idea. He just blew up at me for no reason yesterday and ran off. Maybe people going through hard break ups just hate me."

"I'm sure Skittery's going through a tough time too; be patient with him. Let him cool off, and then talk to him. It's probably all some misunderstanding."

* * *

Jack sat in his first period Biology class thinking through his living situation. It was probably a danger living with Sean, but he didn't really have anywhere else to go. He had too much pride to go back to Bumlets and the others. Swifty wasn't speaking to him ever since he had ditched him for the football players. He didn't have any relatives he could stay with. Who was left?

What the hell happened to all his friends? Didn't he have tons of them just last week?

Unfortunately, it seemed as if Sean was his only option. It was far from the best, but the fact that his only other option was sleeping in the street made Sean's place look a lot better.

"Hey, Jack," Sarah greeted as she sat down next to him. "Why so deep in thought? The class hasn't even started yet. … Not that I actually think you're deep in thought because of Biology; I know you better than that."

Jack grinned. "Ah, it's nothing important. So, what's up? You sneaking off school grounds with us for lunch?"

"Ah … you know, I still haven't really decided. I want to, but I promised my History teacher I'd meet up with her at lunch to go over a test that I failed. I could skip out on her, but it's likely that she'll go looking for me. I don't want the entire football team in trouble just because I'm not smart enough to-" Sarah scratched the back of her head. "I am going about this entirely wrong. I'm actually here as David's older sister, not as your friend."

Jack laughed. "You mean that little dweeb actually sent his sister over here to … what? Scold me on not doing my best on that stupid French project? I can't believe you're going along with this."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm not 'going along with it'. I asked David about what was going on with his French project, and he told me. That's all. The fact that I came over here is all my idea."

"So you came to scold me on behalf of David? What bullshit. You were just telling me how much of a nerd he was the other day. What's with the change of heart?"

Sarah sighed as she crossed her arms. "He's going through a lot right now, and as his older sister it's my job to help him however I can. Plus, I mean, he's a pretty cool kid once you actually start talking to him. Who would have thought it, right?"

"Whatever. It doesn't matter what you say. I'm not helping him with that stupid French project. He was the one stupid enough to challenge me; it's not my fault if he starts regretting it."

"You don't actually think that I care about my brother's grades, do you?" Sarah rolled her eyes. "Please. I _hope_ he fails his project. Not only would my parents not bother me about grades for a while, but he also might actually learn to loosen up a bit. No, grades aren't the problem. It's the fact that you treat him like shit that ticks me off. Stop insulting him every chance you get."

Jack smirked. "Tch. What is this? Are you trying to threaten me or something? It's a nice job … really."

"Fuck you, Jack. David used to be your friend, remember? You may not like him anymore, but you do owe it to him to be civil. He's done a lot for you, you know. You're such a-"

"Sarah Jacobs?" the Biology teacher interrupted. "You don't belong in this class. It's probably hard for you to believe, but you did actually pass this last year. You don't need to come back."

Sarah smiled and looked at the floor, trying her best to look embarrassed even though she knew exactly what she had been doing. She grabbed her books and stood up from her seat. "Sorry, sir. My mistake. I must have gotten the room numbers wrong."

* * *

"He already said 'yes'?" Bumlets asked with wide eyes. He was sitting in English, waiting for the bell signaling second period to ring.

"Yep." Swifty smiled. "I called him as soon as I got home yesterday. He's pretty excited about the extra help. He wants you to come in tomorrow for an official interview. Don't worry too much about that, though; it's just a formality. He'll probably put you to work as soon as the interview is over, too, so make sure you don't have anything to do. I have his office number if you have to reschedule."

"Tomorrow's fine for me, but … I don't really know about Dutchy. I haven't even gotten a chance to talk to him about the job yet; I think he's been avoiding me."

Swifty shrugged. "Makes sense. You did say some pretty mean things about him."

"Fuck you," Bumlets replied with a smile. "You were right there with me, so don't act like you're innocent."

"Hey, you _said_ it was your fault."

"Yeah, and I remember you saying the exact same thing."

"So you seriously didn't get a chance to apologize?" Swifty asked, dropping his smile.

"Mm. I waited by the wall we usually smoke at forever. I even missed the beginning of first period. No one showed up."

"Ah … man. Things sure are getting messed up, huh?"

"What the fuck is this shit about?" Skittery interrupted as soon as he saw them. "When the fuck did you two start hanging out?"

"Yesterday," Swifty answered with an easy shrug. "I bribed him into it."

"Well, now you've had your fun, so get lost."

"Skittery, Jesus, would it kill you to be nice for once in your life?" Bumlets said. "We're just talking; you don't have to act like such a dick about it."

"Know what? Fuck you. And fuck you, too," Skittery replied, first looking at Bumlets and then at Swifty. "Fuck you both. Coming to school was such a fucking bad idea. I'm leaving," he said before turning around and heading right back out the door.

"Wait, you retard! What the hell's your problem?" Bumlets called after him, standing from his seat but not going after him.

"You should probably go after him," Swifty quietly advised. "I can tell the teacher you're in the nurse's office if you want me to."

"Thanks," Bumlets replied with a quick smile before taking off after his friend.

* * *

Skittery sat on the ground next to wall he normally smoked at; cursing the fact that he didn't have a car.

"Shouldn't have even fucking come to this fucking school today," he grumbled to himself. "Had to ask my fucking mother for a ride, and now she'll fucking be griping about it for fucking days. And for what? Everybody's fucking left."

"Talking to yourself?" Spot asked, coming around the corner. "Or are you just schizophrenic?"

"Fuck you."

"What the hell crawled up your ass?" Spot asked calmly before sitting down next to him and lighting up a cigarette.

"I have fucking awful friends, that's what."

Spot took a hit of nicotine. "This is about your friends finding other people to hang out with? Hmph. I can't believe you're this pathetic."

"Fuck you."

Spot stayed quiet and continued smoking his cigarette.

Skittery watched him for a while, leaning back against the wall. He started feeling awkward when Sean stared back, so he switched his gaze to the parking lot. His eyes brightened when he saw Sean's motorcycle. "Hey, you've got that motorcycle, right? How about giving me a ride out of here?"

"No."

"What? Why the fuck not? Come on. I'll even give you money for gas if you're too much of a tight wad with your cash."

Spot put out his cigarette and stood up. "I just don't want to spend any time with you."

Skittery glared at him before looking down and pouting. "Fine. Whatever. I don't need a fucking ride from you anyway."

Spot sighed and crouched down. "If you're really as fed up with everything as you're making it seem then you can always move to Brooklyn and take a job under me."

"Are you hitting on me right now?" Skittery asked, scrunching his eyebrows together

Spot rolled his eyes as he stood up again. "Don't act stupid. Think about my offer. Just know what you're getting into before you agree." He started to walk away, but Skittery interrupted him.

"I'll do it."

Spot turned around, his slightly raised eyebrows the only thing giving away his shock at such a quick answer. "Alright. Come on," he ordered, walking towards his motorcycle.

"What? No lecture at the quick answer?" Skittery asked, following behind him. "No questions about my reasons behind it? Is it really that easy?"

"I'm not around to look after you and correct all the wrong choices you make. And I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't already know your reasons. You hate your parents and your friends are abandoning you."

"Oh … well. A man who doesn't ask questions; I like that."

* * *

"And I looked for him all of third period and I couldn't find him. God damn, I don't know what the hell his problem is," Bumlets ranted about Skittery.

"I don't know," David answered quietly. "I can kind of understand it. He just broke up with his boyfriend and probably best friend, and now all of a sudden that connection is gone. He planned on relying on his other two best friends, but they've gone off with new friends. He's probably feeling really abandoned right now."

Bumlets tugged at his hair and sighed in annoyance. "I am so tired of all this shit. Since when did everyone become so fucking melodramatic?"

"I can try to talk to him today if you want. Do you think that'll help?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Who cares? I'm so done with all this shit. It's all so fucking annoying."

David frowned. "I can't believe that you don't care enough about Skittery to watch out for him. I know it's hard sometimes, and people never appreciate it as much as they should, but if you can somehow help the situation you should. He is your friend, isn't he?"

"It's so hard to deal with everything though," Bumlets admitted. "Skittery and Dutchy are too much to handle at the same time."

"Dutchy? What's there to deal with with him? I thought things were going well."

"They were for the first day." Bumlets laid his forehead on his palm. "We had a fight yesterday."

"About?"

"He heard me talking shit about him and went ballistic," Bumlets answered. "But that was after he stood me up for Specs."

David scrunched his face up. "What was he doing with Specs?"

"Hell if I know. This whole god damn relationship shit was a fucking bad idea. Dutchy just seems to have become more insane."

David laid his hand on Bumlets' shoulder. "Maybe you should break it off before it gets even worse? I think you need to try to minimize the drama in your life as much as you can. Didn't you already say that nothing's good going to come out of whatever it is you and Dutchy are doing? Well, the sooner you cut it off the less painful it'll be."

Bumlets pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know that, but …"

"Come on, Bumlets." David withdrew his hand. "I was under the impression that you _weren't_ a wuss."

"That's a funny thing for you to say." Bumlets glared.

David rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, I know this is hard, but you have to be the one that fixes things. No one's going to be able to do it for you. I know you don't want to hear it, but if you let things go on like they are then you might very well lose your friends."

Bumlets lowered his eyes and looked at the ground for a few seconds. "You're right, of course. I'll talk to Dutchy, and I'll go find Skittery."

"That's the spirit." David smiled and slapped him on the back. "Never give up."

* * *

Itey walked into the lunchroom lacking the normal spring in his step. Time seemed to drag on forever without Skittery by his side to distract him from how boring life was. What the fuck had he been thinking uttering the l-word. When had he become an idiot?

He looked towards his normal table to see only Specs and Dutchy. God, he could not sit there. No way could he deal with those two idiots right now. Dutchy's stupid crushes were just plain annoying without Skittery around.

His eyes roamed around for another place to sit. He glanced over all the people who were unimportant to him until he finally saw Mush and Blink at their own small table. They were sitting across from each other, silently eating their food. He walked over to them without hesitation.

"Yo. Mind if a pop a squat?"

Blink and Mush both looked up from their lunch trays at the same time.

"Of course not," Mush answered first. "How's your day been going so far?"

"Pretty god damn lousy," Itey answered, taking a seat on Blink's side of the table. "How about yourselves?"

"Pretty much the same," Blink replied, thinking about Skittery.

Mush shrugged. "I've had better."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one feeling like hell today. Maybe it's the alignment of the planets or some shit," Itey suggested. "Things have been so fucked up lately. We all need to let loose and drink or something, you know what I mean?"

"I don't really drink," Mush replied.

"Me neither," Blink said.

Itey leaned forward in his seat. "You guys don't _drink_? Why the fucking hell not? Have you ever tried it before?"

Blink looked up as he thought. "Once or twice."

"My parents let me have a glass of wine whenever we have family get togethers," Mush replied. "Does that count?"

Itey sighed. "No, that doesn't count. Man, you guys are pathetic. How can you be high school juniors but not have experience drinking? You know we're going to have to do something about that, don't you?"

Mush gave Blink a worried look before turning back to Itey. "I'm not so sure about that. Can't we get in trouble for drinking underage? I don't mind waiting."

"Waiting!" Itey's eyes widened as he tried to control the sound of his voice. "What do ya mean, wait? Wait four more years before you learn what being drunk feels like? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You have to practice now, so you'll be good when you can finally do it legally."

Mush continued looking worried. "I'm sorry. I'd love to hang out ... whenever you're available, but this doesn't seem like a good idea." He looked at Blink. "What do you think?"

Blink shrugged. "I wouldn't mind trying it in all honesty. Once or twice before we're twenty-one isn't going to hurt us at all, right? And I'd like to see what all the huff is about."

"That's the spirit!" Itey explained, slapping Blink on the back. "So it's decided then! This weekend we'll have the coolest drinking party that you guys are capable of! It'll be a night to remember!"

... And just the thing to get his mind off of Skittery.

* * *

David sat down in French class before the bell rang, getting prepared to do no work yet again. This slacker thing was a lot harder than it looked. If only he had homework from another class to do. Or a test to study for. Or a book to read. Anything would be better than staring off into space.

"I saw your big sis today," Jack announced before sitting down next to David. "We had a pretty interesting conversation." He leaned closer to his French partner. "There anything you think you might want to tell me?"

David looked up at him with a confused look on his face. "What are you talking about, Jack? You've got something to tell me?"

Jack threw his chair back to rest on its two back legs. He laced his fingers on the back of his head and leaned back. "Yeah," he replied nonchalantly, "I got something to tell ya." He snapped his chair back to fours legs and pointed at David. "You're a High school cliche. ... The biggest nerd in school ... so caught up in books he doesn't know what the hell is going on around him. But at least I still held a tiny amount of respect for you. Guys who go crying to their _sisters_ though ... are just fucking cowards. What? You want me to drop it that bad? You wanna pass this stupid project that much? How much more of a pussy could you get?"

Davids face was heating up as he shot up from his chair. "Now see here, you! I'm no coward! And I'm thinking at this point I would rather have you fail than me pass. You're an ungrateful brat. You're a lazy asshole, not only content with, but expecting a free ride. You're an immature child who'll do anything to win an argument, even if it means jeprodizing your future. Were those words all small enough for you? Do I need to repeat it slower for you? I want you to fail this class, Jack. I wanna see your whole, clear-cut future you planned out for yourself go up in smoke."

David knew it was harsh. He knew he had taken it too far, but damn it! He worked hard for his grades, and Jack was trying to ruin all the work he had put into this class. It was irritating. Not too mention, Jack probably would fail this class. And he was probably going to fail five more. But for some reason, for some miracle, he would be a senior next year. The school's honor system had completely gone to hell.

Jack looked pissed as he rose from his seat."What the _fuck_ did you just say to me, you fucking fag?"

"Oh, so I do need to dumb it down for you."

Their teacher walked in before David could get himself punched. "Quiet everyone! Let's all sit down and start gettting to work on those projects!"

David and Jack both sat down.

Jack leaned over to whisper to him. "So, you think you've got some balls, huh? You sure you want to do this? Cause you haven't seen me do shit yet."

David whispered back, "Fear is all in the unknown. Pretend all you want, but you can't do shit to me."

* * *

Bumlets sat on the steps coming down from the side of the school. People usually didn't come around this way between classes. It wasn't around anything; there was no point.

It was here that he sat to think about Dutchy and the huge mistake he'd made. What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? He wasn't gay. He certainly had never thought about his friend like that. And this whole, stupid plan he had gotten sucked into ...

When the fuck did he become this stupid? What kind of idiot put himself into that type of predicament?

"Ugh. What I wouldn't do to go back just a mere twenty-four hours."

"And what would you do with that?" Specs asked, walking around the corner.

"There's a reason no one likes you, you creepy pedophile pervert. Get the fuck outta here. What makes you think I won't beat you to a bloody pulp right now?"

Specs' eyes widened. "Whoa. Well, someone's certainly touchy today, aren't they? Dutchy still refusing to forgive you? Looks like the kid's finally standing up for himself. Good for him. You certainly don't deserve him, that's for sure."

Bumlets narrowed his eyes. He was supposed to be nice to this guy? How could he ever agree to such an impossible task? "And you somehow feel any of this business is yours ... why, again?"

Specs rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Oh, Bumlets, must you be so stupid and niave? Dutchy and I are friends. I'm here to protect him from uncaring assholes like you."

"And if I'm not around exactly who is it that's going to protect Dutchy from idiotic asshole motherfuckers like _you_?"

Specs gritted his teeth. "What a dirty fucking mouth you have. Dutchy will never stay with someone like you. Filthy cunt fags don't deserve him."

Bunlets finally stood up from his step. "You're starting to really tick me off, Four Eyes. You want another black eye? Or maybe something broken this time? Rupturing something seems like a pretty good plan."

Specs raised up both hands, dropping all his anger. "Whoa, dude. That's a little too intense now, don'tcha think? I am Dutchy's friend, after all. Your boyfriend would get mad if you did something to me. And I would tell him too!"

Bumlets started popping knuckles. "You certainly don't do yourself any favors, do you? Dutchy isn't your friend, you idiot. He's just the only one too nice to blow you off. I'm sure he wants to. I'm sure you regrets agreeing to your invitations as soon as he gets there. Unfortunately he's just too damn nice to do anything but smile. Nobody likes you! Then or now. So do yourself a favor, and just leave us all the fuck alone."

In the very back of his head Bumlets hoped that David would forgive him.

* * *

"So, headquarters, aye?" Skittery asked, jumping off the motorcycle and removing his helmet. He looked at the huge crumbling building right in front of them. "Looks like that heap of trash is going to tumble right on top of me."

Spot threw a leg over the motorcycle and slipped off. He nodded his head toward the building. "That heap of trash is the place you will be staying. I'll give you a week to change your mind and run back home to your parents. Wait more than a week and the penalty for leaving is death." Spot turned to look at his newest recruit. "Welcome home." He smirked before heading towards the rotting building.

"Ah, home, sweet home," Skittery replied. "Where ya been all my life, you rotting, crumbling, probably-should-be-condemned building? I feel so complete now. It's like fucking magic."

Spot forced himself not to let out the growl that was trying to escape. "Keep it up, and I'll make sure you go down with the next building that they condemn and try to bring down."

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

Spot grabbed Skittery by the shirt collar and lifted him off the ground, despite being the smaller of the two boys. "I like ya, Skitts. I actually do, but don't forget for one second that that isn't rights to a special pass. If I fail to see the value in you that you are here to give, or you give me no effort, or if I, for some reason, suspect there's a chance of foul play ... I will _not_, for one second, hesitate to shoot you dead in the chest. No last words."

Skittery couldn't stop his eyes from widening. "I swear I was kidding. I appreciate the place to stay and everything. And I won't let you down, sir." Skitts saluted, probably sarcastically, but Spot couldn't be sure. "Swear it."

"Good," Spot replied, finally putting Skittery back on his own two feet. "No more insults. At me, my building, or my city. You'll be staying in the basement." Spot began walking toward th crumbling building.

"What?" Skittery exclaimed, following Spot. "You can't be serious! You can't be that evil of a bastard. Please say it ain't so."

Spot shrugged unsympathetically. "Newbies all bunk in the basement. If you don't like the arrangement you can leave. Just make sure it's within the week. Quitting becomes a much bigger deal after that."

Skittery hung his head as he slowly descended some stairs after Spot. "Ah, man. I thought you said you liked me. Don'tcha waanna be friends?"

Spot snorted, but chose not to say anything as he walked farther down into the basement.

"It's dark, and dank, and cold down here," Skittery complained. "And I can barely see a foot in front of my face. And I've already run into three cobwebs while walking _behind_ you. I feel like useless storage being down here."

"You _are_ useless storage," Spot replied, " ... for now anyway." He finally got to even flooring. He took a few steps forward and pulled a thin chain hanging from the ceiling. The whole floor filled with a dim light.

"It looked better when it was pitch black."

Cement floors sat under them, drywall surrounded them, and above them instead of ceiling were rafters. Lining all the walls were bunk beds, what looked like maybe twenty in all. They were all held together by rotting wood. The mattresses were all stained a brown color, and most seemed to have stuffing leaking out of them. Other than that there was nothing in the big room.

"No sheets, no bathroom ... just beds" Skittery noted. "Whatcha got here, Spot, is a prison cell. No, wait, it's worse than a prison cell, because at least a prison cell has a bathroom in it."

Spot rolled his eyes. "Quit being so melodramatic. The bathrooms are on the first floor, as well as the laundry room where you can pick up your sheets."

Skitty looked around. "You know, oddly enough, that doesn't seem to make this conversation any better. Perhaps some carpeting and posters? Maybe a television? You have cable in this piece of shit building?"

Spot narrowed his eyes. He was getting pretty tired of his empire being called a piece of shit. "Cable and internet," he replied. "As long as you have the right equipment to utilize it, anyway. You want something? You buy it. I'm not your fucking parent."

"I feel so welcome," Skittery said as Spot turned around and started walking up the stairs. "And so gosh darn comfortable. I never knew someone could be this nice of a host," he continued sarcastically.

He sighed as he heard his prison door close. "This or home?" he wondered aloud to himself. "Which is the better of the two evils? And when does it become a good idea to off myself?"

He sighed again as he started looking for the cleanest mattress. He at least had to spend one night here. He'd feel more than foolish if he ran out this soon.

* * *

Bumlets looked around as he took his seat in eighth period. No Skittery. No Itey. No Dutchy. Huh. Well, they had about ... Bumlets looked at the clock. ... One minute before the bell rang. Honestly, Bumlets would probably be happier with the fact that they had all decided to cut last period. He could use a break.

"Hey!" Dutchy greeted as he walked through the door and took a seat. "How ya? I'm having such an unbelievable day!" He looked at Bumlets. "No thanks to _you_, of course. At least I still have Specs."

'Specs is an asshole,' Bumlets wanted to say right off the bat, but he remembered that he promised David he would try to be nice. Which meant he couldn't just write Specs off as an asshole anymore. God damn it. "Don't be like that, Dutchy," he said out loud. "I know it was mean, but I was just venting. And guess what. I got us jobs!"

"Oh boy!" Dutchy replied with mock excitement. "That makes _everything_ better. I totally forgive you now for talking trash about me to Swifty."

Bumlets scrunched his eyebrows together. "Dutchy ... I apologized already, alright? You can fucking drop it now."

Dutchy's mouth dropped before snapping closed again. " '... Fucking drop it'? Really, Bumlets? '... Fucking _drop_ it'! He shot up from his chair, feeling like he finally had the courage to tell his friend off.

"Alright!" the teacher said, walking into the classroom. "Let's try not to scream so loud everyone hears it out in the hallway." He gave the class a wide smile. "Now shall we begin? Everyone turn to page fifty-six."

"How _dare_ you fucking tell me to drop it," Dutchy whispered to Bumlets after he sat back down. "How would you feel if you walked in on your boyfriend bitching about you to another man?"

"I'm not your boyfriend, Dutchy," Bumlets whispered back. "It's a sham, remember? A part of another one of your fucked up plans. How you managed to rope _me_ into it I'll never know."

"You cock-sucking son of a bitch," Dutchy swore. "Boyfriend or friend, you still shouldn't have been talking about me like that. Especially not to Swifty. He's like a complete stranger now."

"Better him than Specs," Bumlets retorted. "Swifty's the one who got us jobs. What the hell has Specs done for you besides be an asshole?"

"I'll tell you what he _hasn't_ done," Dutchy answered, his voice getting louder with every word. "He _hasn't_ talked shit about me to anyone who'll listen."

"It wasn't like that!" Bumlets shouted.

"Whoa," the teacher interrupted calmly. "I could've sworn I said _not _to yell loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear it. I'm _pretty _sure that's what I said."

Dutchy paid no heed. He stood up from his seat once again. "I'm so fucking tired of being everyone's bitch! Yours! Skittery's! Itey's! You guys don't appreciate me worth a shit. Well fine! That's fine! Just replace me with Swifty, and you won't have to listen to my annoying ass or my stupid plans ever again! But there's no way in hell I'm just going to sit here and listen to it!" He screamed before marching out of class.

"So, as I was saying," the teacher continued, seeming unfazed as the classroom door slammed shut, "research shows that people are programmed to conform. Put simplistically, it's a 'monkey see monkey do' situation. In other words ... "

Bumlets sighed and buried his face in his arms. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about breaking up with anyone.

* * *

"Itey!" David said when he saw the boy walking through the halls. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be in class right now?" Itey shot back instantly. "_You're_ the one who's supposed to be the good student."

"They made me take Study Hall this period. Otherwise I'd have too many credits, and I'd have to graduate early," David explained.

"And that would be a bad thing because ..."

"Because I want another year to decide what college to go. It's a very big decision, and it requires an immense amount of thought," David replied. "And what about you? You cutting?"

Itey shrugged. "Not like anyone's surprised. My last period's dumb as fuck anyway. I didn't feel like dealing with the shit today. School's stupid as fuck as it is."

David narrowed his eyes slightly. He happened to like school. But he let it drop. There was no sense in creating a useless argument. "So how have you been lately, Itey? It seems like things have been a little tense for you."

"Huh?" Itey asked, scratching the back of his head. He hadn't been expecting that question. "Well, yea, maybe I have been under a little bit of stress. Life of a teenager." He shrugged.

David drew his eyebrows together. He hadn't thought Itey would just come right out with everything, but he had been expecting at least _something_. "What's the matter? You don't trust me anymore? I know we haven't really talked in awhile, but I still know you aren't just suffering from teenage angst. You can talk to me, Itey. I promise to keep it between us. I'm here to listen. Honestly. That's all I want to do. I know we haven't been _really_ good friends for awhile, but-"

"You're rambling, Davy," Itey pointed out. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It's complicated, you know what I mean? I don't even know where to start. I can't sort anything out."

"Well, you can start with something simple," David suggested. "Why are you cutting class?"

"I told you-"

"I mean the real reason," David continued. "You're a good student, Itey. I know you don't cut just because you feel like being a delinquent."

"Yes," Itey protested, "I do. You haven't seen me in _years_, David. Just because you knew me _once_ doesn't mean you know me _now_. So stop acting like it, okay?"

David stared at him. Yes, he had been expecting a little bit of resistance. Of course Itey wouldn't come out with everything all at once without even offering an excuse or two. No, he had not been expecting to get attacked for showing concern. "So you're really stressed out then?"

"Yes," Itey replied, sighing and plopping down in the middle of the hallway. He held his head in his hands. "Life fucking sucks, you know it? I fucking hate all this shit."

David put his hand on Itey's back before sitting down next to him in the hall. "You know, in times like these, I heard it's supposed to help to talk about it.'

Itey sighed. He really didn't want to talk about it. He had talked about it enough. Now it was time for it to go away. The thoughts kept racing around in his head. They were getting to be too overwhelming. He just wanted to forget about it already. "Skittery and I broke up," he finally released. "And he's being a big, ole son of a bitch."

"Oh, Itey, I'm so sorry."

"Dutchy's using Bumlets to be gay," he continued, undeterred. "Everyone keeps bothering me and annoying me. My sister's a bitch. My parent's are retards. Sean's a gang leader. And he'll probably have me killed-"

"What?"

"And the more I think about it, the less I seem to care."

"What did you say? Sean's a ... a what now? He's a gang leader? How? Where? When?"

"Shit," Itey swore, smacking himself in the forehead. "I guess I shouldn't have told you that, huh? Now he'll probably be out to kill you, too."

"You're joking," David accused. "You can't be serious."

"Nope, I totally am. You know that scary, ominous Brooklyn gang leader? The one who takes no prisioners and whose very voice strikes fear into the hearts of thousands? Well, that little midget's him."

"I don't believe it."

Itey shrugged. "Me either. Let's go call him a liar to his face," he suggested, starting to get up from the floor.

David's eyes widened. "No! We can't do that!" He grabbed Itey's arm and pulled him back down.

Itey smirked. "So you do believe me then?"

David sighed. He had forgotten what a headache Itey could give him if he wanted to. "Yes, I suppose I do. Now, stop messing with me. I'm trying to help here."

"Help how, Davy? There's nothing you can do. Skittery hates me. Sean's going to kill me. And now he's going to kill you, too. My family sucks. My friends suck. My life sucks. And maybe Sean'll be doing me a favor by offing me."

"Itey! Don't talk like that. This is just a small bump in the road. All we have to do is get past this, and everything will be good as new," David said with a smile.

Itey stared at him for awhile. "Are you an idiot, Davy?" he finally asked. "Seriously. Did something happen to your brain since the last time I talked to you? 'This is just a small bump in the road'? '... A small bum in the road'? No. That is completely and utterly stupid. This isn't just a small bump. This is my life ending. Good riddance I say."

"Itey. Please don't talk like that. Everything will be okay."

"Bullshit it will. Maybe once Sean finally puts me out of my misery."

"Now that's enough," David demanded. "I very much agree that this a situation to complain about. But there's complaining, and then there's whining. Fucking toughen up and deal with it."

Itey looked at him with an open mouth. "You liking your new balls then?"

David laughed. "They're very comfortable. I think I'm going to keep them."

Itey smirked and nodded. "They look good on you."

David smiled back. "Why, thank you."

**To Be Continued ...**

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* * *

**

So? Worth the wait? I find myself a little rusty, but I'm hoping my writing didn't suffer.

Please Review! It's what brought me back in the first place!


	21. Everyone's Pissed

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over _Newsies_; you shouldn't either. Don't sue. Believe me, I have nothing you would want.  
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:**Updates may (and probably will be) slow.  
Also, I haven't written in quite awhile. Hopefully i'll get back into the full swing of things. Until then, I'm sorry if this chapter isn't up to my usual standards.****  
**This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Beta'ed By: Unfortunately, after 2 years of absence, I've lost contact with my beta's. So, unfortunately, this one was edited by me. Sorry if it's not up to standards.

Summary of Chapter 19 (because at this point I'm sure you've forgotten):

-Sarah and David are actually getting along ... mush to the surprise of their parents  
-Stealth warns Spot that something bad is going to happen, and it involves Racetrack  
-Itey unknowingly gives Mush his first kiss.  
-Sarah threatens Jack to lighten up on her brother.  
-Bumlets gets a job with Swifty's uncle.  
-Skittery joins the Brooklyn gang.  
-Itey tells David that Sean's a gang leader.

And now, without further ado, I present chapter 20!

Getting Back Together Again  
**XX: Everyone's Pissed**

Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs were just about ready to go. Unfortunately, they were missing two very important things: their babysitters for the evening.

"Where do you think they are?" the wife asked, peaking out of the window worriedly.

"I don't know, but I can tell you this," the husband replied sternly as he adjusted his tie, "if one of them isn't here soon neither of them are leaving the house until college."

"I hope they're okay."

"Sarah I can understand, but David …" He shook his head. "He was _supposed_ to be here fifteen minutes ago, _regardless_ of if we were leaving or not. Did he forget he was still being punished? What are we doing wrong here? I thought David was supposed to be the good one."

"Henry!" his wife exclaimed, her eyes going wide, "don't talk like that. All our children are unique, and shouldn't be ranked or compared to one another."

Henry nodded. "Of course. You're absolutely right. I'm just frustrated. If we're late …"

"I'm sure there's a good explanation. They're both good kids."

"There's Sarah!" Mr. Jacobs exclaimed as his daughter's car pulled up into the driveway. "She _better_ have a good explanation for this."

They watched as Sarah got out of the driver's seat. And they shared a surprised glance as David got of the passenger's side. They were still getting along? Those two hadn't been able to be in the same room with each other since middle school.

"Sorry we're late," Sarah apologized as she ran through the front door.

"Traffic was awful," David explained as he came in after her.

"It took us ten minutes just to get a mile," Sarah complained. "Talk about road rage."

"Well," Sarah's mom began, "I'm just glad you both are okay."

"Yes, yes," their dad agreed hurriedly. "And now we really must be going." He tugged his wife's arm towards the door. "Take good care of your brother. Make us proud, et cetera and so on."

Sarah and David both laughed after the door closed.

"I think that actually went better than when we _aren't_ late for babysitting," Sarah said. "Maybe we should be late more often."

David put a hand on his chest. "I don't think my heart could handle it. I was _sure_ dad would ground me until college. I can't believe he didn't even say anything about me still being under house arrest."

Sarah shrugged. "I guess wherever they're going is super important. Just be grateful you lucked out." She punched her brother gently on the arm. "Hope my driving didn't panic you too much."

"Panic me?!" David asked, his eyes widened. "I think that's something else my heart wouldn't be able to handle again. Who exactly was it that taught you how to drive?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "How have your balls not dropped yet? I did what I had to. If we were any later who knows what would have happened. I got us here in one piece, so," she shrugged, "no harm, no foul, right?"

"But what if we had crashed? We both could have ended up dead."

"But we didn't, _Dad_," Sarah said.

"I understand that we didn't, _Sarah_, but we could have! And that should be enough to make you _slow_ _down_."

Sarah rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I had a handle on it, okay? If you don't want to ride with me then _don't_. I was just offering to be nice, you ungrateful brat."

"'Ungrateful brat?'" David asked. "No, not at all." He started pacing around. "In fact, let me tell you a few of the things I'm thankful for. I'm thankful I lived through that whole experience with you. I'm thankful I have my license so I never have to go through it again. And I'm thankful we have cops roaming the streets that'll lock you in jail when they see you endangering that many lives."

"You're such an irritating shithead," Sarah complained. "God, no wonder I haven't put up with you in so long. I forgot how fucking annoying you were."

"Well that's fine!" David shouted. "Because you don't have to deal with me! In fact, I would very much appreciate it if you didn't! You just ruin everything you touch anyway. You're too stupid to actually do anything productive. You just make everything worse! Did you really think talking sense into Jack would help? You just turned him into a bigger pain."

Sarah rolled her eyes again. "That was _way_ too much talking to pay attention to," she replied calmly. "I hate listening to your voice in general, why would I ever want to listen to it for _that_ long? Think about someone else besides yourself for a change."

David narrowed his eyes. How did he forget how much he hated his sister?

Before he could think of a good insult to throw her way the doorbell rang.

"Bumlets," Sarah stated before trudging up the stairs. "I'll just leave you to your friend that's only here because _I_ asked."

David tried to squash his anger before opening the door. Sure enough, there was Bumlets on the other side of it. But, a lot less expectantly was Itey, who was standing a little behind him.

Bumlets shrugged apologetically. "I ran into him on my way here. Is it okay that I brought him?"

The impulse answer was, of course, no, but Sarah's words still rang in his ears. He would show her whose balls had dropped. Well, not literally, of course, but figuratively speaking … right, well, anyway … "Yea. He's just going to have to leave before my parents get back."

"Ah, Davey, you know we love you!" Itey exclaimed with a smile before walking in.

"Shoes off!" David demanded as he saw Itey's muddy shoe print on the wooden floor.

"Course, David," Bumlets replied, stepping inside and slipping his shoes off. "You've gotta relax, ok? You seem a little tense."

David nodded. "It's Sarah's fault. We got into a small shouting match before you got here about her terrible driving."

Itey laughed, kneeling down to untie a shoe. "That's not surprising. She is a woman, after all. It only stands to reason that she'd be a terrible driver. Where is that little tyke anyway?"

David frowned. "That's really sexist, Itey. You better not ever say anything like that around my mom. Sarah stomped off upstairs."

"Of course I was kidding, Davey. Bum's right; you are too wound up. How 'bout you and he watch some television and unstress yourselves. I gotta go to the crapper," Itey replied, taking off for the upstairs.

"There's a bathroom down here," David told him, scrunching his eyebrows together.

Itey waved as he continued up. "Thanks for the offer, but the upstairs bathroom is fine. Don't wait up. I gotta unload a big one."

"Ew," was all David replied with.

* * *

Spot got to his room and opened his door. His eyes immediately found Jack taking a nap on his rotting couch. "Didn't somebody tell you that you wouldn't be staying here any longer?"

Jack leapt up. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped. "What the fuck do you mean I can't stay here? You said I could, you sack of shit! This is the only place I got! Where the hell else am I supposed to go?"

Spot rolled his eyes. "In the basement, you retard. Your new roommate's already waiting for you. Now get your shit and get the hell out. I'm getting depressingly tired of looking at you."

Jack's eyes narrowed as he roughly grabbed his book bag full of clothes. "You're a fucking bastard. You knew exactly how that fucking sounded. Was it really fucking necessary for you to scare me like that?"

Spot sighed. "No, I supposed not," he admitted. "It did make it a lot funnier though."

Jack made sure to slam the door on his way out.

"That fucking bastard," he continued to mumble to himself as he traveled down the steps. "Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I'm going to dropkick him in his little midget head."

"Don't tell me Spot managed to piss of another one of his whores," Hunter said as he walked up to Jack on the stairs. "So what happened, Precious? Was there not enough foreplay for you?"

Jack gritted his teeth. He was never in the mood for this shit, but now was an especially bad fucking time. "Now's not the time, you fucking retard. Move the fuck outta my way before I do it for you."

Hunter's smirk didn't look intimidated. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to him, quite content to block the rest of the stairs from Jack. "Or perhaps … there was no foreplay at all? Did he just ram it in and have his way with you?"

Jack shoved Hunter backwards, causing him to tumble back and slide down half a flight of stairs on his back. "I warned you, you fucking cock-sucking bastard!" he shouted. He jumped from his position in the middle of the stairs to land on top of Hunter at the landing. He started punching; everywhere and anywhere.

"What the fuck!" Hunter shrieked. "Get the fuck off me, you deranged freak! You fucking homo!" He held his arms up to protect his face, but the punches kept landing.

Suddenly Jack was jerked up by his shirt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Slingshot asked, still holding onto Jack by the shirt. "Hunter is your superior! You have absolutely no reason to be attacking him like that! No matter what happens or what he did!" He looked up. "And what exactly were you doing? Were you just going to watch? What do you think of all of this?"

Jack followed Slingshot's gaze to see Spot standing at the top of the stairs.

Hunter continued to lie on the ground, hiding his face in his hands and trying to breathe again.

Spot smirked and then shrugged. "I think it was mildly impressive. I think it was well-deserved. And I think that he practically got on his knees and asked for it." He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "I also think they both need to grow the fuck up, because they have a lot more important things to be worrying about than each other."

Jack dropped his eyes from Spot's gaze. Somehow that comment made him feel bad for what he had done. It was the same look David used to give him from an eternity ago.

Spot turned his back to them. "And I also think we, too, have more important things to deal with than these two retards." He started walking back up the stairs.

Slingshot finally released Jack's shirt. He shook his head while looking at Jack. "You should be glad Spot's in a good mood." He glared at the ground, towards Hunter. "_Both_ of you." After that he hurried after Spot.

Jack sighed, easing the feelings of guilt coming out of him. Then he crotched down beside Hunter's ear. "Don't fucking ask for shit, and I won't fucking give it," he whispered.

Hunter groaned.

Jack gave a Spot-like smirk before stepping over Hunter and continuing down the stairs. He wondered how far down the basement was.

* * *

Specs bit into a burger. "Why even try?" he asked around a mouthful of food. "He's a douchebag doofus anyway. You need someone better than that. You need, like, I don't know … How do I put this without sounding gay?" he asked as he chewed. "What you need is a real man!" he suddenly exclaimed excitedly, spitting some food in Dutchy's direction.

Dutchy flicked away some of Specs's food that had flown to his cheek. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that food stays in your mouth?" What had he been thinking? Of course it was a stupid plan to date Bumlets. Especially once they added in the sex. And Specs wasn't even thinking about being jealous because why would he? He was straight. What was the point? He was such a dimwit. Of _course_ his plan wouldn't work. It was _his_, after all.

"Dutch! Come on, man. You aren't getting the point," Specs replied, waving his hands around. "You're missing everything I'm saying cause you're so wrapped up in depression. Bumlets is a worthless little shit, okay? You need someone better than that."

Dutchy frowned. "Would you stop? He's still my friend, you know. You calling him a piece of shit isn't helping anything."

"Are you serious? He was talking behind _your_ back. Why don't you fucking stand up for yourself? I'm trying to help you out here."

"Well, I appreciate that. But I would appreciate it a lot more if you could do that _without_ talking trash about one of my friends."

"But that's what I'm good at," Specs admitted. "This fucker- I mean, this _guy_ really hurt you. And I wanna help you out. But I don't know how else to do it."

Dutchy's eyes lit up. "You really want to help?" Okay, so maybe his last plan didn't work. That was fine, because this one wasn't going to fail. Of course Specs wasn't going to get jealous of him if he had never thought of them being in a relationship together before. Sometimes he couldn't handle how brilliant he was.

"Of course I do," Specs insisted, unknowingly walking into a trap. "I wanna make that asshole regret what he did to you."

"That's perfect," Dutchy replied. "Because I just came up with the perfect plan. One that's sure to mess Bumlets up, and make sure that he regrets ever dumping me!"

"Awesome!" Specs exclaimed. "Count me in! Let's make him cry!"

Dutchy frowned for a second. "Well … let's try and kind of lead away from the crying aspect." He perked up again. "But I'm feeling really good about this one. And I admire your devotion."

"Excellent! Excellent," Specs said excitedly. "So what's this wonderful plan of yours? I'm ready for it."

Dutchy smirked. "We've gotta make him jealous." This was going to be fucking perfect. Maybe he didn't have the best plans _all_ the time, but he sure did come up with some flawless ones sometimes.

* * *

"What'd you want?" Spot asked as soon as he had closed the door to his room.

"What? I can't stop by just to talk sometimes? I thought we could talk about our feelings," Slingshot answered. "We could snuggle and tell each other how much we love the other one and why."

Spot rolled his eyes. "I'd rather just have my balls ripped off and then force-fed to me. What'd you actually come by to talk about?"

Slingshot crossed his arms. "I wish you could relax more, Boss. Bad news is so hard to break."

Spot narrowed his eyes. "Bad news?" He advanced on his second-in-command. "What _kind_ of bad news?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

Slingshot put his arms in between them. He stumbled back until he ran into the wall. "Now see? This is what I'm talking about. How am I ever supposed to tell you when you _already_ look like you're going to kill me?"

Spot took a deep sigh and stepped back a few steps. He tried to calm himself down, but bad news _really_ pissed him off. And having to wait for it really _fucking_ pissed him off. "_Now_," he demanded quietly.

"Well, sir, it seems the Bronx may be a bit testier than we had originally thought," Slingshot finally got out.

"How _much_ madder?" The Bronx had never caused them much trouble before. More than often they were on the same team, and when they weren't it was because the Bronx were staying out of things.

Sliongshot closed his eyes tight and sighed. "This is very hard for me to do, sir."

Spot clenched his teeth. It was taking all he had not to rip Slingshot to shreds, or strangle him, or punch a wall, or _something_. He didn't have a kind temper. It was really impatient. The one thing he liked about Slingshot was that, more often than not, he got to the fucking point. He didn't ramble on like all the other idiots, like he was doing right now.

"The Bronx has barred us from their territory," Slingshot finally forced out. He immediately flinched, waiting for a punch that never came.

"You're fucking pathetic," Spot complained. "Fucking stand up and be a man. Jesus Christ. Those punks are actually ballsy enough to ban us from their grounds?"

Slingshot stood up straight. He tried his best to look Spot in the eye like a man, but his eyes forced him to look at the ground instead. "Yes, sir. It seems as if they've instituted a no-one-in-no-one-out policy."

Spot narrowed his eyes. "Prisoners? Causalities?"

Slingshot shook his head. "None and none, sir. They just sent us out a warning. They haven't taken any action against us yet."

Spot rubbed his forehead. He was starting to get a headache. "Fine. Return the sentiment. Issue the same warning. Give 'em a week before we start enforcing it. And let the men know to stop making trips there. In the meantime, it's your job to figure out _why_."

Sling nodded his head. "Of course I will, sir. I'll get right on it."

"Good. Now get out of here. I need a god damn nap."

* * *

Blink leaned against his best friend's bed. "You know I love you, right Mush? But things just aren't the same without Racetrack .When do you think his mom will finally like us again?"

Mush shrugged from beside Blink. "You wanna go over to his house and talk to her? Maybe if we tell her we aren't gambling with him she'll let us see him."

Blink sighed. "Probably not, but we could try. We might at least to be able to score some hours in the house with him. … For today anyway. Maybe. I hope."

Mush put a hand on Blink's shoulder. "Positive thinking," he said before getting up. "It doesn't count as a try unless you go into it thinking that it'll work."

Blink nodded. "You're right. I was just getting down for a minute. Come on, let's go see Race," he said as he got up as well. He began following Mush to the door. He didn't understand why people thought Mush was naive. He had always thought that he was wise.

"Let's try and get something to eat with him," Mush suggested, grabbing his keys. "I'm getting hungry."

Blink nodded again. "Where were you thinking? Fast food? I could go for a burger. Wendy's maybe?" He followed Mush outside and to the car.

Mush shrugged as he opened up his car door and sat down. "I don't know. I wouldn't mind Wendy's, but I was hoping for something more …"

Blink plopped down in the passenger seat with a smile on his face. "Cheaper? Faster? Fancier? More better?"

Mush raised an eyebrow at him before turning the key in the ignition. "Slower is actually what I was thinking," he said.

Blink laughed as they backed out of the driveway. "Sorry. So what were you thinking?" he asked as he put on his seatbelt. "Applebee's? Olive Garden? O'Charlie's? Longhorn? Red Lobster? The Outback?"

Mush shook his head and laughed. "Too fancy. We aren't going on a three-way date, you know."

"Fricker's? Bullwinkle's? Steak'n'Shake? Chipotle? Umm … Wafflehouse?"

"I'd kind of like some pizza I think. Would that be okay?"

Blink nodded as he turned onto Racetrack's street. "Pizza, huh? Let's see … Domino's? Donato's? Pizza Hut? Jet's? Marco's? American Pizza? La Rosa's? Little Caesar's?"

"That can be up to you two," Mush offered. "I just want some pizza. I don't care where it comes from."

"We'll let Race decide then," Blink replied, "Cause I don't really care either. I just wanna see Racetrack."

Mush nodded as they pulled up Racetrack's driveway. "I know what you mean. It seems like it's been ages, hasn't it?"

"Way too long is what it feels like," Blink replied as he unfastened his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

Mush nodded again and started to follow Blink to the door. "I hope he's doing okay."

"Probably going stir crazy. You know how Race hates staying in one place for too long," Blink said. He looked behind him at Mush. "Hey! Why am I the one going first? That's not fair! His mom likes you better. _You_ go first."

"But I don't wanna go first," Mush replied. "You're the one who volunteered."

Blink's eye widened. "I did not! I would never!"

They stopped when they got to the porch, both not wanting to go any farther.

"Why not? Just go first."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm afraid of her!"

"Me too."

"Damn it," Blink swore. They should have planned this out better. Only a door and a woman stood in the way of seeing their best friend. So close, yet so far away. "Okay, what if I knock, and you talk to her?"

"What if _I_ knock and _you_ talk to her?"

Blink sighed. "Well, we've gotta think of something. We can't have come all this way for nothing"

Suddenly the front door opened without the encouragement of a knock. A tall, muscular man stepped out with a frown on his face. "What are you boys doing here?" he asked with a gruff voice.

Blink and Mush both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hello, Mr. Higgins!" Mush greeted with a smile.

"Is Racetrack home?" Blink asked his eyes bright as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.

Mush's smile dropped. "Is his mom home?" he asked quietly.

Mr. Higgins let go of a low laugh as he stepped away from the door. "Yes and no," he replied. "Just leave in an hour, and make sure not to ever tell her I let you in."

Blink and Mush burst out in smiles, first looking at each other, then looking at Racetrack's wonderful dad. "You're the best, Mr. Higgins!" they both said as they ran inside.

* * *

Skitts lied on his back at the top of one of the many bunk beds covering the walls of the basement. He stared up at the rafters. The bed did look a lot better with sheets. And it was a lot softer than he had anticipated.

"This doesn't seem so bad," Skitts told himself, throwing his hands behind his head and crossing his legs. "No yelling, no screaming, no stupid bitch of a sister. A guy could get used to this."

"What the fuck is this shit?" Jack asked as he came down the stairs. "What the hell are you doing here? And what the fuck is Sean … Spot … Whatever-the-Fuck-His-Name-Is thinking putting me in a fucking dungeon?"

Skittery popped up in his bed and sat cross-legged. "What am _I_ doing?" he repeated, pointing at himself. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?" he asked, now pointing towards Jack. "This is my room, _Jack_ass. Get the hell out."

"Fuck no," Jack answered. "I'm not getting kicked out of two places in one day. I just want to know why the fuck you're my new roommate. You have a house."

"None of your god damn business," Skittery replied. "You refuse to leave? Fine. But don't fucking talk to me. You're a worthless piece of trash, and I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want to act chummy. I don't want you knowing my business. And the less I see and hear of you the better, ok?"

"Jesus Christ, pent up anger?" Jack said, rolling his eyes. "Hey, don't worry. I'm not trying to make any friends. Especially not with you, alright? Why the fuck would I want a worthless druggie as a friend?"

Skittery jumped off his bed. "What the _FUCK_ Jack? I fucking saved your ass from sleeping outside in the cold, from sleeping out in the fucking rain. I let you sleep in my house. I let you eat my food. I took care of your worthless ass. How the _fuck_ do you think you can talk to me like that?"

"Your _parent's_ food! Your _parent's_ house!" Jack corrected angrily. "You didn't give me _shit_. You don't have _shit_ to _give_."

"You fucking piece of shit," Skittery growled. "No wonder your parents don't want you. You're a fucking ungrateful, spoiled _brat_." He slowly walked up to Jack. "You're a god damn piece of _scum_, Jack, and now is not the day to piss me off."

Jack shoved him away. "If you don't want a fight you should go back to your bunk like a good little _bitch_, because I would never be afraid of someone like you."

Skittery clenched his fists. He did not appreciate being called a bitch. It'd been ages since his last real fight, and Jack definitely looked bigger than him. At this point though … damn it, he just didn't give a shit. "That was a _warning_, Jack. I was trying _not_ to pummel your face in."

Jack laughed with his hands on his hips. "As if a skinny midget like you could ever take me down."

Skittery bolted for Jack with his head bent down. He grabbed him by the waist and forced him down. Then he punched. And he punched again. "I am so fucking tired of listening to your obnoxious voice!" he screamed. He kept punching. "No one fucking cares about you, Jack! Everyone is fucking sick of you! You're a fucking piece of trash. Fucking act like it!"

Meanwhile, Jack was on his back, trying to get the air back into his lungs. Even in a daze he was in disbelief. How could he have let this asshole take him down? He was a football player, god damn it! It was his _job_ not to get tackled.

As soon as Jack had regained his breath he flipped them, so it was Skittery who was on his back. He huffed for a second as he held Skittery's arms down. "Listen, you little bitch," he demanded through clenched teeth. "You can't win against me, ok? I'm _stronger_, _faster_, and _better_ than you will _ever_ be. So I'm telling you one last time: pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get back on your bunk like a good little bitch."

Skittery immediately started squirming and thrashing around. "You're a mother-fucking cunt! Ass-face! Fucking donkey-fucking cumdumpster! Fucking fag! You fucking gutter-trash-rot! Let me the fuck _up_!"

Jack answered by head butting him.

"Ugh," Skittery grunted, flinching up.

"There's more where that came from," Jack answered before violently cringing. He rolled off and began hugging his stomach. "You kneed me in the balls, you little shit," he accused with a winded breath.

Skittery leapt up, swaying a bit. That head butt had made him dizzy. "Good," he replied with a smile on his face. "Cause there's more where that came from, _bitch_!" He triumphantly turned around to see someone watching from the stairs. "Another new roommate?"

They didn't answer.

Skittery cocked his head to the side as Jack continued to roll on the ground.

The person looked around before finally answering. "Sorry," he said quietly, "I thought the basement was empty."

"Moved in today," Skittery happily explained.

The boy kept silent.

Skittery furrowed his eyebrows. This was a very weird kid. He refused to speak because he was … scared? But he looked more than comfortable with just standing there. "I'm getting hungry," Skittery said, heading for the stairs. He grabbed the quiet boy's arm. "Come on. You can show me where all the food's at in this piece of shit building."

* * *

"Are you coming?" Racetrack asked. "You promised you would."

Everything was dark. "Promised I would what?" Spot asked back.

"Come."

"Come where?"

Racetrack laughed. "I don't know, Silly. Where do you wanna come? We agreed that we could both come wherever we wanted."

"'Come wherever we wanted'?" Spot asked. He was getting confused. He could go wherever he wanted? Where did he want to go? Brooklyn? He realized it was so dark because his eyes were closed. He quickly opened them. … And got nailed in the face with something wet. He sputtered when some of it went into his mouth.

Racetrack laughed again. "I told you I wanted to cum on your face. You should have kept your eyes closed.

Spot's eyes widened, and he sputtered some more. _Cum_?! That was _cum_ on his face?! He tried to wipe some of it off, but he only ended up smearing it. He stopped as his head was jerked up by the hair.

"I told you to _eat_ it," Racetrack growled at him while holding a fistful of Spot's hair. "You fucking promised you would, you little slut."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Spot asked, scrunching his nose when he tasted more cum on his lips.

Racetrack pulled his hair harder. "I said fucking _eat_ it, you stupid slut! What? You don't have ears now? Once you've been a good boy and licked it all up I'll let you cum wherever you'd like.

"Good," Spot replied, trying to get back into control, "because I wanna come in that sweet ass of yours."

Racetrack laughed and pushed Spot. And suddenly, somehow, Spot was on all fours. "You should probably get this straight right now," he said, jamming one finger into Spot's ass. "The only person going into _anyone's_ tight ass is _me_ going into _yours_. And don't even _try_ to deny it. You're excitement is _very_ visible." He wiggled around his finger before withdrawing it.

Spot looked down to see between his legs and, sure enough, his excitement _was_ visible. And, not only that, in fact, but he also looked more 'excited' than he had ever remembered looking.

Racetrack laughed one more time. "You better hurry up and decide, you filthy whore. If you don't you're just going to end up cumming all over yourself. And if that happens you better fucking eat _that_ too."

Spot woke up with a start and a sticky mess between his legs. His face immediately warmed up. When was the last time he had had a fucking wet dream? Fucking twelve?

"Oh, Jesus," Spot swore. "What the fuck is wrong with me lately? Racetrack? Fucking _Racetrack_? Why does that punkass keep bothering me?"

He got up from bed and started to head towards the shower. First thing first was to get cleaned up. There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone see what a mess he had made of himself.

What he had to figure out was _why_. _Why_ was Racetrack having this effect on him? He wasn't a bad-looking kid, but Spot had seen better. He wasn't wonderfully athletic. He wasn't terrifically smart. He wasn't the first kid to try to stand up to him.

Spot turned on the shower and started peeling off sticky clothes. Racetrack was noisy, opinionated, temperamental, and impatient. Most of the time he did a pretty good job annoying Spot. He was whiney, cowardly, and a goody-two-shoes.

Spot hopped in the shower and immediately grabbed the soap.

Definitely _not_ his type.

And being dominated had never been Spot's thing. He was the one who was supposed to be calling _his_ fuck buddy a slut and a whore, and cumming all over _his_ face, and sticking _his_ fingers into his asshole. If he were to have sex with Racetrack, then _he_ would be the one calling the shots. He was no one's bitch.

Spot scrubbed at his stomach. This job was harder than he had remembered. He'd forgotten how much of a bitch it was to wash cum off.

Seriously, what was going on with him lately? Too much stress? Was Manhattan too much for him? Was he more worried about his secret getting out than he had thought? Maybe he just needed a vacation. Or a really good fuck.

Once all the cum was down the drain he decided to start washing his hair.

Maybe he was starting to get bored with Slingshot, and his subconscious was just bringing it to his attention in a really fucked up way. What other explanation could there be?

He put his head under the water and started rinsing off the shampoo.

He knew another option. He just didn't want to explore it. He didn't have time for that shit. He was a busy guy, and he'd already spent enough time thinking about him and his stupid …

… Crush ….

… _Thing_ he had with him. God damn it! He had spent this long ignoring his hormones! He had the willpower to last just another two and a half more years. Then this stupid teenage faze would be over and he could get back to business.

He turned off the faucet and shook some of the water out of his hair.

He couldn't handle all this annoying shit! He had to do something about it right now. He couldn't wake up like this for two more years. He had to get Racetrack out of his head. _How_ though, was the question. Maybe if he just spent some time away from him. That definitely couldn't hurt, anyway.

Spot shook his head. Maybe all this crush bullshit was too much for him. He wasn't even coming up with a good fucking plan. But, god damn it, he would _not_ be fucked over.

* * *

David peered at his hand of cards. He looked to his right at Bumlets, and then looked to his left at his little brother. He looked at his hand again, then at his opponents. His eyes shot to the mess of cards in between all of them. "Do you have … any twos?" he asked, looking at Les.

Les eyes slowly went wide as he pointed at himself. "Me?"

David nodded. "Yep, you, Short-Stuff. Now come on, let's see those two's."

His little brother lit up into a smile. "Nope. Go Fish!"

Bumlets laughed as David picked one of the many cards making up the river. "He got you that time."

David crouched down and looked at his little brother. He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, he certainly did," he mumbled. "But he won't be doing it again." He held up the card he just drew to his brother. "This one's exactly what I needed."

Les looked worried. "Is it a five?" he asked quietly, burrowing his head into his hand of cards.

David looked up to the ceiling as he flung the card over. "Damn it! Take it, you little rat."

Les smiled widely as he put down all four fives. He grinned at the three cards left in his hand. He turned to his brother's friend. "Do you have any aces?"

"Ugh," Bumlets replied, throwing a card Les' way. "You got me kid. What else you got in that hand of yours?"

Les burst into a big smile. "Nothing!" he declared as he laid four aces down. He waved his empty hands around. "I won! Losers have to clean up!" he shouted loudly before jumping off his chair and running away.

Bumlets laughed. "Cute kid," he said as he started gathering the cards up.

"Yeah, he's an absolute joy," David replied a little sarcastically. He started putting away the dishes from the dinner they had made. "It's always a lot better with company though, so thanks for that."

"No problem," Bumlets said. He finished gathering up the cards and slid them back into their box. "Speaking of company, where the hell is Itey? I haven't seen him since he went upstairs to take that dump."

David frowned and looked at the clock. "Yeah, you're right. He and Sarah both missed dinner. You think he's alright?"

Bumlets shrugged. "He's probably taking the biggest crap in the world. I can't believe that ass came over just so he could clog up your toilet."

David frowned and scrunched his nose. "You don't think he's going to clog the toilet, do you? What if he doesn't know how to turn the water off or work a plunger? I don't wanna have to clean up toilet water."

Bumlets laughed. "It'll be more than that you'll be cleaning up."

David's whole face started scrunching as he thought about how nasty and poop-covered his bathroom could possibly be.

Bumlets smiled and laughed louder. "Relax, Davey. I'll go check on him. I'm sure we would have heard some shouting if he'd broken anything."

David frowned and looked at the clock. "Yeah, you're right. It's about time for him to be going, too. I lost track of time; it's almost Les' bedtime. My parents _shouldn't_ be home for a couple more hours, but there's really no telling with them. A lot of the time they try to be home before Les goes to bed so they can say goodnight."

"Alright," Bumlets replied. "Well, how about I go upstairs and find the wanker? You can stay down here and finish doing the dishes. You know, like a good housewife."

"Watch it!" David snapped immediately at the insult. His scowl dropped. "But good plan. Go to it. And if you see Les tell him to either get to bed or come back down and help clean. It should be easier to make him sleep that way"

"Gotcha," Bumlets said as he got up from his chair at the kitchen table. "I'm sure the tyke's gloating about his victory in the living room." He laughed as he started heading that way.

David put his hands on his hips and sighed. He shook his head. Today had been a lot more stressful than he would have liked, but, surprisingly, it hadn't been a bad day at all. He supposed he owed Sarah for that. At least partially, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, breaking the rules wasn't as awful as he had thought it was. He was having a pretty good time of it so far.

He rolled up his sleeves and started filling up the sink. So where was the line, then? When was it ok to break the rules and when wasn't it? Rules were there for a reason. He had always been told that. But the fact that he broke the rules was the only reason Bumlets was over. It was the only reason he was able to stand up to Specs. So if breaking the rules was sometimes the right thing to do … when was it the wrong thing to do? If rules weren't a proper measure of what was right or wrong what was? How could he determine when he was making the right choice?

He heard a door knob turn from the living room, and he shot up from his stooped position. His heart immediately started racing. Oh god, he hoped that was Les, and not who he thought it was.

"I don't know where he went," David heard Bumlets' voice say. "I can't find the little sucker anywhere. Maybe he went out the window?"

"Can't find who?" David heard his mother ask.

"Fuck!" David muttered quietly to himself. He dropped the dish he was washing into the water and quickly walked towards the living room.

"Les," Bumlets lied to Mrs. Jacobs. "He's a lot better at playing hide and seek than I thought."

David walked into the living room fast enough to catch his father's glare.

"Have you looked behind you yet?" Mr. Jacobs asked, looking towards the stairs.

Bumlets turned to see Les bouncing on the stairs right behind him. He laughed brokenly. "There you are! My, my, you sure are good at this game, aren't you?"

"I'm awesome at it!" Les declared, thinking Bumlets was talking about Go Fish. "I smoked you both!"

Mrs. Jacobs laughed. "Well, I am glad to hear that. I'm happy you all could play together." She looked at her youngest son. "But I think it's someone's bedtime now, don't you?"

Les pouted. "Already?"

"Yes," Mr. Jacobs said, "Already. But if you hurry up we'll tuck you in."

Les quickly nodded before leaping up the stairs. "Davey already helped me brush my teeth all by myself!" he declared.

"You helped him do it all by myself, huh?" Bumlets asked David quietly as everyone else went upstairs. "Didn't even realize that was possible."

"It's not," David answered distractedly. "Where do you think Itey is?" he asked as quietly as he could. "If my parents find him they'll kill me. I can't get grounded on top of my already being grounded. I don't even know how that works. And Sarah sure isn't going to take the fall for me after our fight. We have to find him and get him out of here before my parents do. They absolutely cannot find him." His eyes were wide and he started to wheeze slightly from lack of air. "This was a bad idea."

"Just relax, David," Bumlets pleaded. "I was serious when I said he went out the window. He does that sort of thing. I looked everywhere upstairs and couldn't find him. I even checked the damn closets. There's nothing for you to worry about."

Suddenly they both heard yelling from upstairs.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, young lady?!" They heard Mr. Jacobs yell.

Bumlets immediately paled. "I never checked Sarah's room though."

David's eyes widened. "What the hell would he be doing in my sister's room?!"

Bumlets shrugged while trying to hide the smile from his face. "It's not like your sister isn't hot."

"Ew! Bumlets! Ew!" David started pacing. "He wouldn't do that. He couldn't. Right?" He turned to Bumlets and paused before he smashed his face into his hands. "Good fucking lord, what if he did?!"

Just then Itey came running down the stairs sans shirt. "Thanks for having me," he said quickly as he ran past them. "It was great fun. Let's do this again sometime," he continued as he rapidly fiddled with the lock on the front door. "Okay. Bye." He took off through the front door and kept running up the street.

David opened his mouth and gurgled something intelligible. His face was very quickly becoming red.

Bumlets' eyes widened. "I'm going to go, alright?" he asked slowly. "This seems kind of like a family moment," he said before scooting towards the door. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?"

* * *

"So where are the eats?" Skittery asked, pulling the silent boy by the arm. He couldn't really figure out why he had abducted someone, but he supposed that's what people did in gangs. Might as well get some practice in, right?

The guy did a lot of pointing and some tilts of the head, but he refrained from speaking.

Skittery cocked his head to the side. He didn't understand all the flourishes the kid was doing. They were getting confusing. "So … up, then to the left, up again, go to the right, then go down, do a loop de loop, and turn around?"

The kid smacked himself in the face with an open palm. "Will you let go of me please?" he croaked out. He hated being touched.

Skittery loosened his grip as the arm was ripped away. "Well, Jesus, I didn't know that I was gross. So where's this loop de loop you're talking about?" he asked while continuing to climb the stairs.

The guy shook his head and started moving his hands around again.

"Up? To the left, then go back down, go straight, then up again, left one more time, and then it'll be the second door on the right? What happened to the loop de loop?"

The guy violently shook his head.

"Where am I going then? Fucking _talk_, damn you! I hate being lost. I don't even know how to get back to my room from here."

"Go _down_, idiot," the guy replied. He shook his head again.

"You don't have to be such a bitch," Skittery muttered. "I was trying to be _friendly_, you know. Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"Who the fuck are you?" the guy repeated.

"Skittery," Skitts answered, clearly not offended. "Now who the fuck are you? And why don't you fucking talk?"

The boy looked at him square in the eye for a couple seconds. "Don't worry about it."

Skittery scratched his head. "To which question?"

"Both."

Skittery rolled his eyes. "Shit, you sure are annoying. What's your problem with fucking talking? I'm never going to find any food if you don't tell me where to go."

He just shrugged.

"God damn you!" Skittery shouted, he wound his arm back to lightly, _lightly_ smack the kid. He was hoping to knock some words out of his mouth. But somehow he just ended up on his back. "How the fuck?" he asked, leaping up. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"It would've been more than that, but I understand break ups put people under a massive amount of stress."

Skittery narrowed his eyes. "What? Who the fuck told you that? Sean? I can't fucking believe this. When did the Brooklyn gang turn into a bunch of gossipers, huh? This is fucking ridiculous."

"No one told me. Heartbreak's pretty easy to spot. Especially when you've just broken up with a soulmate."

Skitts scrunched up his eyebrows. "Who the fuck are you? Am I dreaming? Did I hit my head too hard against something? Is my brain on drugs?"

"I'm Stealth," Stealth answered calmly.

"And I'm dreaming. Obviously," Skittery answered, looking around. "When can I wake up?"

Stealth shook his head, but Skittery wasn't looking. "I don't think …" He patted himself on the chest. "I feel real."

"Well, of course you would. It makes perfect sense a figment would feel real to himself. But how could you know about me and Itey unless you were made up in my brain?"

Stealth shrugged. "Fair point."

"Obviously I'm just going crazy," Skittery said, waving his hands around. "No, I'm dreaming, right? Of course I am. You're probably a ghost or something, right?" He grabbed on to Stealth's face, expecting it not to be solid.

Stealth slapped him. People touching him was something he didn't like to put up with.

"Ow, fucker," Skitts swore, touching his stinging cheek. "That really hurt, you know."

"Guess that means you aren't dreaming."

"Mm … you are right about that one," Skittery replied. "So am I going crazy then? Or maybe I was slipped some acid or LSD or some haze or something."

Stealth rolled his eyes. "Those are all the same thing."

Skittery waved it off. "Whatever. The point is I'm not in my right mind right now. I just need to lay down and sleep it off. His stomach growled. "But first  
I need to eat something, so where's the cafeteria in this bitch?"

Stealth sighed. This was never going to end. He had just wanted to be alone for a little bit in the basement. "Down a flight. Right. Double doors straight ahead."

"Sweet. Now those directions I can actually understand. Thanks, dude."

* * *

Racetrack bounced another paper off the lid of the trash can. He sighed. Being grounded fucking sucked. He didn't even have any homework to do.

"This sucks," he said to no one. So what if he gambled? He was responsible with it. He'd never been in the hole with anyone because of it. He'd never stolen money for it. Anything he ever put on the line was his, so what did it matter?

His mom just wanted to ruin his life. And Sean wasn't being any kind of help. And he felt all alone without Blink and Mush around.

"This sucks," he repeated. He leaned back on his desk chair and balanced a pen across his upper lip. Maybe he should just sneak out tonight. It was only his dad home, after all. He could leave, go to Brooklyn, gamble a bit, then come right back. The chances of his dad coming in to check on him was minimal. "One in twenty," he said to himself. "Which means a ninety-five percent chance of not getting caught." With such favorable statistics how could he _not_ sneak out?

Right, okay. It was decided then. He was getting extremely tired of wasting away his afternoons. He was only a kid for so long, after all. It was his obligation to enjoy it for as long as he could, right? Right.

He got up and made for his window. It was a pretty easy escape route. Just out, to the overlooking tree, then down. It was easy and fast; the two things imperative to leaving his mom's house without getting caught.

He pried up the window slowly, making sure it didn't squeak. Then, while holding the window open with one hand, he started peeling off the screen with the other.

Opening the escape route was probably the hardest and slowest part. Once he got through the window it was all downhill from there.

He stuck a leg out first. Then his arm. Then he leaned his head down to get that out the window as well. So far things were going very smoothly.

"Anthony?" his dad asked, stepping inside the bedroom.

"Dad?!" Racetrack asked back, his eyes big. He quickly tried to climb back in. The window pane dropped fast onto his shoulder, and he slammed his head on the glass trying to make it back inside.

"Anthony!" his dad repeated. He got to the window in two strides and helped pull his son through it. "What the hell do you think you're doing? That's dangerous, you idiot!"

Racetrack looked at the floor. "Sorry, Dad. I promise it won't happen again, sir."

"You better hope not," his dad replied. "Because if I ever see you like that again I'm pushing your dumbass out. Why do you always refuse to behave when _I_ watch you? Huh? Do you _want_ me to be as strict as your mother?"

"Of course not."

"Then why are you acting like it? I'm trying to make your mom loosen up on you," his dad continued. "I really am. But you're constantly sabotaging the work I'm doing. Your mom isn't going to pay attention to my methods if my methods don't _work_."

Racetrack hung his head. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't realize."

Mr. Higgins nodded. "Well, now that you do maybe you'll show a little more effect, hm?" He jerked his head towards the stairs. "Now hurry up. Your friends are waiting downstairs."

Racetrack's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. "Blink and Mush!? For real, Pop? Thank you!" He rushed out his door, in too much of a hurry to wait around for a response.

"Just make sure not to make me regret it by climbing out your window again!" Mr. Higgins shouted at his son's back. He shook his head and smiled. Damnit, his son sure was an idiot sometimes, but he was a good boy. It was a shame his wife felt that she had to be so strict with him.

Racetrack was charging down the stairs, oblivious to his father's thoughts. He leapt over the last two steps and spun into the living room. "Blink! Mush!"

"Racetrack!" Blink and Mush both called out, jumping up and embracing their friend.

"It feels like it's been forever!" Race said. "Where have you two been? What have you been doing with yourselves, huh? What have I missed?"

"Skittery and Itey have been growing on us," Blink replied. "Well, sorta, anyway. I guess we've been growing more on Itey than Skittery."

Racetrack frowned. "Why? Is Skittery being a dick? Do I need to go kick his ass? He's not messing with you two, is he?"

Mush laughed and waved his hand in the air. "Skittery's fine. He's just going through some things right now, and he's … uh … unfortunately taking out his anger on the wrong people."

Racetrack's frown refused to let up. "Is that you trying to convince me _not_ to fight him? 'Cause it sounds like he could use a nice kick to the balls."

"No kicking anyone in the balls, Anthony," Mr. Higgins said as he walked through the living room.

"But, Dad! He's being a dick to my friends."

"Then talk it out, like real men," his dad replied. "I _suppose_ you could _threaten_ to kick him in the balls, but only as a last resort." His eyes widened for a second. "And don't tell your mother I told you that," he demanded before making it to the kitchen.

Mush and Blink both laughed.

"Seriously, though," Racetrack continued through the laughter. "Do I need to go have a talk with this guy? 'Cause I will if you ask me to."

"No. No," Blink replied. "He'll be fine. He's just going through some things and stressing out too much. It's nothing a little time won't fix."

"If you say so," Race replied.

"I do. I do," Blink replied. "We haven't seen each other in _forever_. We need to be spending this time talking about important things."

"Like what?"

Mush picked the conversation up. "Like what have you been doing with yourself? Are you doing all right? Have you already replaced us with better friends? How mad is your mom? Are you still going into Brooklyn to gamble? Are you being safe? How's school? Anything giving you trouble? Any_one_ giving you trouble?"

Racetrack laughed. "I can only answer one at a time. Stop overwhelming me!" he replied, still laughing. "Let's see, of _course_ you two haven't been replaced. There's no one in the world who could. I'm doing fine, so's school. Mom's pretty mad. She's sending me to this stupid gambling rehabilitation center every Sunday now, courtesy of Sean."

"A rehabilitation center for _gambling_?" Blink asked. "She's for real?"

Racetrack nodded. "Completely serious. Fucking Sean talked her into the whole thing. I swear he's trying to ruin my life. She refuses to let me out of it, no matter what I promise her." He rolled his eyes. "She says it's important I fight my addiction early on in my life or some shit like that."

"I'm sorry, Racetrack," Mush replied. "So what's this place like? How bad is it?"

"Completely awful," Racetrack said. "Everyone there's batshit crazy, including the counselor. Shit, the counselor's probably the worst one. Last time I went I just ended up leaving. I can't stand it there."

"It sounds dreadful," Mush replied. "But I guess what else would you expect from Sean, right? Is there anything we can do?"

Racetrack shook his head. "I don't think so. I guess it's just one of those things I need to get through. I can't think of a way around going to the stupid thing. I'll be ok … I think."

"Well, if that's not convincing, I don't know what is," Blink replied sarcastically. "We came to _help_, Race. We just don't know _how_. Give us some direction. Tell us what to do and we'll do it."

"That's just the thing, though. I have no _idea_ what to do. I don't have a clue how to get out of this. I can't talk to my mom. I can't skip going. I can't keep leaving it. I'm out of plans. We're just going to have to wait and see," Racetrack said.

Blink and Mush both frowned. That didn't sound like Racetrack. Race was a man of action. He always had plans. If one didn't work he was right there with a second one, or a third, or a twenty-fourth.

"If you say so," Mush finally gave in. "Just let us know if you think of anything, okay? We're here to help."

"Of course," Racetrack replied. "Thank you." He looked at the clock. "I loved all this catching up, and I really missed you guys. I think my mom'll be home soon though. Best to get out while you can."

"Say no more," Blink said, standing up. "Definitely don't want to be here when the beast gets home." He gave Racetrack a hug and started heading for the door.

"We'll talk soon, okay?" Mush said, standing as well and embracing his friend. "Just don't get down on yourself."

"Thanks guys. I'll see you two later, okay? This was really nice." Racetrack continued smiling until the door closed behind his two friends. Then he frowned as guilt set in.

So he had kind of lied. Though he had no stable plan, per se, he did have a course of action in mind. He was sure Sean was hiding the answer somewhere. All that was needed was a nice, big confrontation. Why hadn't he told Blink and Mush? Why did he want to confront Sean on his own so bad? He had no idea.

* * *

David walked into Sarah's room after their parents went to bed. He closed the door behind him and turned off the small television set Sarah had been watching. "I need to talk to you," David said, turning to her. "Now."

Sarah just rolled her eyes. "You are talking to me, shit-for-brains. And I don't want to hear any of it. Now get out of my room. I never gave you permission to come in." She turned back on the television with her remote.

"I don't give a fuck what you want right now," David bit out. He jerked out the television cord from its wall outlet. "Turn that shit on again and I'm throwing it through the mother fucking god damn window."

Sarah finally straightened up in bed. She couldn't help her mouth dropping open slightly. "What the hell got up your ass, baby brother?" she asked, no longer sounding mad. "I didn't even know you _knew_ the word 'fuck'. Did you finally start letting yourself watch R-rated movies?"

"Cut the shit, Sarah," David demanded. "You want to explain to me what the hell you were doing with Itey for fucking hours and hours while Bumlets and I watched Les without any of your god damn help?" he hissed out.

Sarah rolled her eyes again. "You're here because of _that_ stupid shit?" she scoffed. "We talked, _Davy_. Nothing happened, not that it's any of _your_ business anyway. You think we fucked or something? Exactly when the hell did you start thinking of me as a huge slut?"

"Since Itey ran out my front door without a shirt on," David replied, crossing his arms. He glared at his sister. "And you expect me to believe that for over four hours all you guys did was talk? That both of you completely missed dinner so you could keep right on talking. That's a load of bullshit."

"Well, that's what fucking happened!" Sarah yelled back. "I can't believe you don't have more faith in me than that. Especially since Itey's in man-love with his ex-boyfriend anyway. I already had to ward off Mom and Dad, but I thought _you,_ of all people, wouldn't accuse me of banging a gay dude."

"He ran out without a shirt on, Sarah! Exactly what the hell am I supposed to be thinking?" David replied quietly. His anger was very slowly draining.

"You're _supposed_ to be thinking that _I_ wouldn't do something like that, and _he_ wouldn't do something like that. And it was a fucking joke he decided to do all by himself because we were already caught anyway," Sarah said. "A horrible idea, I know. But while he was explaining it to me I thought it was funny, so I didn't stop him. Now I'm grounded for three weeks for listening to all his pathetic boyfriend stories."

"What kind of pathetic boyfriend stories?" David asked, sitting down on his sister's bed.

"_Private_, pathetic boyfriend stories," Sarah replied. She looked at her brother acting depressed on the edge of her bed. She kicked him with her foot. "Meaning you should probably go ask him yourself, yea? I'm sure he'd love to tell you all about it. I couldn't get him to shut up once he started going on about it." She rolled her eyes and smiled. "And I know how you love listening to other people's problems."

David let out a small laugh. "Yea, that's true enough, I guess." He looked at his sister. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Sarah. I shouldn't have thought like that."

"Thank you," Sarah said. "I always wait until the second date to have sex with a guy, after all."

David's eyes bulged as he jerked off the bed.

Sarah laughed and threw a pillow at him. "I'm kidding, you dweeb! Now plug my TV back in and get the hell out of my room."

* * *

Skittery walked into the mess hall by himself. That silent kid had somehow managed to slip away. 'Stealth' indeed. "Damn bastard was probably just a fucking figment anyway."

He looked toward the long line waiting to get food. He rolled his eyes. This shit was going to take forever. And he was hungry _now_. Maybe he could steal somebody else's. That's what gangs did, right? Yep. Right. It was decided then.

Skittery snatched the first moving sandwich he saw and took a bite out of it. He scrunched up his face and put it back.

The big kid with the tray stopped in front of him. "What the fuck? I was going to eat that. What the fuck are you thinking?"

"What the fuck are _you_ thinking? Who the fuck puts pickles on a ham sandwich?" Skittery asked, looking down at the other guy's stomach. "Plus, you don't need it, Chubby."

The kid's eyes widened has he dropped his tray to the floor and clenched his fists. He took a step forward. "I'm going to make you regret that one."

"What are you going to do? Eat me?"

The kid was turning red now. And shaking too. Maybe Skittery had gone too far this time. Just as he was finally realizing he was about to get the shit punched out of him the other kid turned tail and ran.

Skittery turned around, curious as to what the fat bastard had seen. "Quiet kid!"

"Stealth," the quiet kid corrected.

"Stealth!" Skittery repeated. "You saved my life!"

"You were committing suicide."

Skittery laughed. "Very true."

"God damn it! What the fuck, you creepy son of a bitch? I wanted to see him get his face smashed in!" a kid yelled as he walked up to them. The kid was looking pretty hurt. He had a black eye and tape all over his nose. He had blood leaking out of the scratch on his cheek, and he seemed to be limping a bit.

A second person was following him. "Shut up the fuck up, Hunter. You would be in the hospital right now if Slingshot hadn't saved your ass less than an hour ago."

"Hey! I've never done something as stupid as that!" Hunter replied, pointing at Skittery. "He deserved to get his ass kicked."

"So did you," the second guy stated.

"Shut up, Bam," Hunter said. "I did not. I was just teasing."

"So was I," Skittery replied. "And being a gangster."

Bam and Hunter turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. Stealth had already disappeared again.

Hunter turned to Bam. "Who the fuck is this kid?"

Bam shrugged. "I dunno. New recruit? What I really want to know is how he knows Stealth." He crossed his arms and turned to look at Skittery again.

Skittery shrugged. "I met him in the basement today."

Hunter tilted his head to the side. "Is that a metaphor for … like … something gay?"

"No, you idiot," Skittery replied. "'I met him in the basement' meaning 'I met him in the fucking basement'. How the fuck is that a metaphor for anything, you stupid piece of shit?"

Hunter cracked his knuckles. "Right now I'm thinking it's a metaphor for 'I'm a fucking retard who can't learn his god damn lesson.' Do you _want_ to be beat up today? Because I'll be happy to oblige."

Bam rolled his eyes and shoved Hunter back a few steps. "Stop acting all big and bad. We're all in the same gang here." He extended his hand. "I'm Bam." He jerked his head toward Hunter. "This douchebag goes by Hunter."

"Skittery," Skitts replied, returning the handshake. "There anyway to avoid that huge ass line to get some food?"

Bam shook his head. "Unless you've got some money to go out somewhere I'm afraid not."

"Damn it."

"Don't worry," Bam replied, putting his hand on Skittery's shoulder. "It's faster when you have someone with you."

They both walked to the end of the line, leaving Hunter behind, forgotten.

* * *

**Hopefully it was worth the wait!**


End file.
